Vulnerable
by TheGirlWithTheDinosaurTattoo
Summary: Dean Winchester is struggling to find his once-familiar place at Winchester Ranch after the terror that Ouriel's demon spell had him locked into. Can he continue to balance domestication and the safety of his family?
1. Chapter 1

:: Welcome back to Winchester Ranch! I took some time off to have a proper winter break, but now I'm getting back into the swing of things. This is 'Vulnerable', which follows directly after 'Wayward' in our Winchester Ranch series. I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season, no matter what you celebrate. Thanks for coming along on this adventure! I hope you enjoy and would love to hear what you think!

Love and internetty hugs,

TheGirlWithTheDinosaurTattoo::

...

Chapter 1

Dean

As I wandered through my giant house, I let my hand slide down the banister to feel the age of the wood beneath my fingers. The finest grain of sandpaper would never be able to produce the silk of the wood I felt…nothing but time could do something like that. As I got to the bottom of the step, my hand landed in something sticky on the top of the banister and pulled my hand away, making a face.

Only kids could make that kind of sticky.

I should know; I had four of them, now.

Wiping my hand on my shirt, I headed towards the refrigerator and opened the door, letting the dark kitchen floor flood with light. Staring at the contents inside, I shook my head, knowing that I wasn't actually hungry, just kind of bored. It's what came from having such a happy, regular, domestic home life, I suppose. It had taken awhile to get back into the happy home life routine after what happened with Ouriel and the damned demon spell, but I was making it work.

Or at least, trying to.

Hearing a creak from the steps, I turned slowly to see my oldest daughter standing at the base of the stairs, watching me silently. "Hey, Meatloaf," I greeted quietly. "What's up?" She continued to stare at me and I wondered momentarily if she was sleepwalking. "Lib?" I asked. "You okay?"

Liberty stepped forward towards me and glanced at the windows. "It's still dark," she observed. "Is it time to get up?"

I shook my head, "No, baby," I whispered, laughing. "It's late. You should be asleep. Everyone else is."

"Why aren't you?"

Sitting on the couch behind me, I opened my arms and she approached me silently, climbing up into my lap. "I do this a lot, kiddo," I began, shrugging. "I can't usually sleep through the night. I get up and check on you and your sisters, usually tripping on your brother laying on the floor in the baby's room in the process, and then make my way down here for a bit."

Lib seemed to understand. She nodded slowly and looked up at me with those big green eyes: my green eyes. "Momma is asleep," she stated simply after a minute or two.

I nodded. "Yeah, Momma is still asleep."

"Are you going to leave again?"

Those six words were like a knife sliding between my ribs. It was yet another painful reminder of the demon spell that had held me captive for weeks on end: almost half of my wife's latest pregnancy. Grace had forgiven me for the awful things I had done, but I still hadn't forgiven myself.

"I'll never leave you again, Lib," I whispered into her hair as I held her close. "Not like that."

Liberty leaned back, listening to something that I couldn't hear. I knew she had inherited some of her mother's half-angel psychic abilities, but I had no idea how powerful she was. She blinked slowly and tilted her head, asking, "Who are those girls?"

"What girls?"

"The girls that are in your mind," she replied quietly. "You kissed one."

I looked away from my five-year-old daughter, fighting the emotions that were rising in my throat like bile. Liberty had just seen the women that I had been with while under the influence of the demon spell.

The women that I had slept with.

The women that I had killed.

The women that weren't Grace.

I took a deep breath and struggled to stare at Lib, my eyes finally finding hers in the dim. "Baby," I began, shifting my position slightly. "That's a really hard conversation to have and when you're older, we can talk about it again."

"But you won't leave us for them?"

"No, kiddo," I said, sighing. "You're stuck with me."

Libby smiled. My answers seemed to have appeased her, so I carried her back to her bedroom and she climbed back into bed. "Go back to sleep, Meatloaf," I whispered, tucking her back in. Her eyes were heavy and she gave into unconsciousness quickly. I lingered in her doorway, watching her breathe, and vowed to keep my promises.

I crept back to our bedroom and pulled the covers back. Grace turned automatically towards my warmth, but didn't wake. I watched her sleep and was forever grateful that my wife was an angel/human hybrid. She was able to see and hear my thoughts and feelings and knew that I was completely and utterly dedicated to her and only her. If she had been more like her sister, I had a feeling that she wouldn't have been so quick to forgive me, and the mistakes that I made while hopped up on the demon spell.

Grace's sister, Serendipity, was on me constantly, eyeing me suspiciously when she thought I wasn't watching and always the first to ask where I was going. I was eternally patient, knowing that if I pissed Serra off, I could pretty much count on a bullet between the ears. She would come around eventually, I knew, but it was Grace's opinion that mattered more to me.

Right after our youngest daughter was born, almost three weeks ago, Grace and I sat up late one night, talking about what had happened while I was gone. She had pressed with questions that begged the truth and I had answered as willingly as I could, finding the words and thoughts necessary to explain what I remembered. Grace had listened eagerly and we had come to the conclusion that we would close that chapter of our lives and do what we could to move on without harping on it. I was relieved.

I had spent the following weeks being at Grace's beck and call, doing everything I could to reiterate that I was a husband and a father first; never wanting Grace to feel as abandoned as she had felt while I was gone.

Eventually, I let sleep take me once more, but it was restless. I tossed and turned every hour or so and I finally gave up around six and got up, ready to deal with the day.

Glory joined me first, tiptoeing down the steps and trying to sneak up on me in the dining room. My middle daughter was three and beginning to be a bit of a firecracker. I continued to drink my coffee, acting as if I didn't hear or see her. She got to the corner of the island and crept right up to my leg and tapped me.

"Whoa!" I gasped, feigning surprise. "Man, Glory-Bee. You're gettin' pretty ninja. You got me good."

She grinned up at me shaking her head lightly. "No, Daddy," Glory said quietly. "You tricking me."

I picked her up from the floor and touched her forehead to mine gently. There it was: more proof that she was a psychic as well, inheriting more than I bargained for from her mother. "One of these days, Glory Girl," I said, smiling gently, "you'll get me. You'll be a better ninja than me."

She hugged me fiercely and I closed my eyes, drinking it in. Glory lifted her head and watched as her twin brother made his way down the steps as well, rubbing his face and looking more like me every day. Our features were pretty close to identical, right down to the freckles that were scattered across his nose. The only quality that he inherited from Grace was his eyes. They were the pure blue.

"Hi brudder," Glory greeted from her position on my hip.

He said nothing, as per usual, but he acknowledged her with a glance and a small smile. Everett was mostly silent, saving most of his communication for when he really needed something. Usually the something he needed was the new baby: Faith.

Everett and Faith were connected in a way that probably only I was able to understand. He carried the same Mark of Cain that I did, and his emotions were in pretty constant turmoil while separated from his mother or sisters. Faith was more than half angel: she was conceived while Castiel used Grace as a vessel to make sure that she would be able to absorb Everett's Mark the same way Grace absorbed mine. It was all much more complicated than I wanted it to be, but Everett was safe and Faith was an easy baby, so it had all been worth it.

I put Glory down and she and Ev headed to their snack drawer in the kitchen and each pulled out a box of raisins and a granola bar. I opened both boxes and wrappers and they plopped down in the middle of the kitchen floor to eat together in silence. I sat at the kitchen table near them and opened my laptop, scrolling through the latest headlines and emails that had piled up over night.

Grace, Liberty, and Faith followed about an hour later, joining us at the kitchen table with sleepy eyes and pajamas.

"Good morning, sunshine," I greeted as my wife sat down next to me, holding our infant.

"Mmhmm," Grace replied, yawning widely.

I glanced back at my computer screen and closed it with a snap and stood to get her a cup of coffee. "Creamer or black?" I asked, lifting my eyebrows.

"Black," Grace replied, yawning again.

I nodded and turned back towards the coffee pot knowing that she must be tired if she didn't even want the new fancy creamer that Serra brought home a few days ago. "Faith wasn't up too much last night, was she?" I asked, handing her the mug. "I didn't hear her."

Grace shook her head. "No," she began, sighing and taking a sip of coffee. "It took me awhile to fall asleep and then my subconscious seemed to be interlaced with theirs," she said, gesturing to Liberty and Glory. "It's like they're communicating in their sleep."

"Is that something that happens a lot?" I asked, sitting back down.

"Not that I've noticed before. I'm hoping it's a fluke."

I nodded and stared down at Faith who was watching me with interest. "She's so aware," I muttered, reaching for the baby. "None of them were so alert at three weeks." I glanced up at Grace. "Right?"

Grace nodded and smiled lightly. "Yeah," she agreed, "she's weird. Reminds me of Cas."

I chuckled and stared down at the baby in my arms. "But she's mine, right?" I asked, grinning.

"That's still to be determined," Grace replied, not hesitating in the slightest.

She smiled and took another sip of her coffee as Everett climbed up into her lap, trying to get closer to Faith. He stared down at her face and touched her softly with the palm of his hand. She turned to his touch immediately and I was reassured that we had done the right thing for Everett. Having a fourth to save the third was completely worth it in the end. They would take care of each other.

The morning moved quickly. Grace got dressed and helped the kids all find what they needed for their school day and I showered at got ready for my day at the shop. As I was getting dressed, Grace leaned into our bedroom, asking, "Are you going in at eight or nine?"

"Nine," I replied, rolling the sleeves to my flannel up to my elbows. "Why?"

"I wanna leave Faith with you so I don't have to load the stroller."

Nodding, I glanced at the clock. "Yeah, sure," I replied. She came in and laid Faith in the middle of the bed. The baby stared at me with her stormy blue eyes following me around the room. "Hey there, Pot Roast," I greeted, leaning over my daughter and smiling. "You stuck with me?" She narrowed her eyes and reached for the edge of my flannel and I shook my head in disbelief. "You are so different than the others," I repeated again, "Try not to be smarter than your mother. I won't be able to keep up."

Faith cooed at me, wrapping her tiny fingers around my own and I could feel the same electrified tingle in my Marked arm that I felt when Grace made physical contact with me. I smiled at her again and shook my head. "Yeah," I agreed to her noises. "You're gonna be a handful."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Serra

What was I thinking, agreeing to have another baby? This is exhausting. I don't know how my sister is ever conscious. I was up four times last night, feeding Charlotte, and Sam tries to help, really he does, but all he ends up doing is pissing me off and getting in my way.

Charlotte and Faith are only a day apart and every fiber of my being is jealous of the fact that Faith is so much easier than Charlie. Of course, logically speaking, Faith is exactly Grace and Charlie is exactly me, and that poses all kinds of problems. Grace is calm and relaxed; I am irritable and a little loud. Dealing with another, miniature version of me has not gone well.

"I'll drop Levi off and pick him up on my way home this afternoon," Sam was saying, but I was barely paying attention. "You need anything before I go?"

"Coffee," I replied, rolling over slowly, trying not to wake up the baby sleeping next to me. "Is there coffee?"

Sam nodded and smiled, kissing my head. "Yeah, it's on downstairs," he replied. "You should tag team with Grace today. See if you two can catch up on some sleep."

I agreed, closing my eyes. "Yeah, for sure. Jody's coming by later too," I said, sighing. Ever since Jody had moved back into her own apartment, the Big House had been a little lonelier. "I'm gonna make her take them. Then me and Grace are going to run away to Mexico."

Sam chuckled quietly. "Well, when you get there, make sure not to drink the water," he muttered, leaning over to kiss me once more.

"That's a myth," I said, shoving my face into my pillow. "Besides, no one goes to Mexico to drink water." Sam walked out of the room and I could hear him close the front door gently with our son Levi in his wake. I rolled slowly to the side and checked to see if Charlie was still sleeping. I was surprised when I was met by her steel-blue gaze. "Oh," I said, tilting my head. "You're awake."

Charlie cooed at me and waved her tiny hands around haphazardly.

"Oh really?" I asked, flipping my hair out of her reach and resting my head on my arm as I stared at my daughter. "And what else?"

She stuck her tongue out at me and drooled, still waving her fists around.

"You're probably hungry again, right? Demanding little diva?" I turned to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. Dean's number came up and I opened it, answering it without hesitation. "What happened?"

"What?" Dean's voice answered. "Where's Sam?"

"What?" I replied, holding the phone out so I could see the case. "Oh," I said smiling, "Sam and I must have switched phones. I have his."

Dean laughed, his voice loose and relaxed. "Alright," he began, "I'll call yours then."

"What do you want?"

"I want to talk to my brother," he answered, a smile still in his voice. "Nosy."

"Forgive me for wanting to keep tabs on you," I muttered, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my voice. "You can understand, considering your recent history."

Dean clicked his tongue. "Jesus, Serra, you have to realize and accept that it was the spell, not me. Your sister has. Why can't you?"

I rolled my eyes and pulled a strand of hair from Charlie's fist. "My sister is a lot more forgiving than I am," I explained. "You were with six other women, Dean, and you tried to kill her twice. It's gonna take some time for me to come back from that."

Dean sighed and I knew he was biting his tongue, trying to do his best to keep his anger at bay. I knew very well that it hadn't been his consciousness in charge of his body or mind while the demon spell controlled his desires, but I also knew that he should have done more to keep his dick out of other women.

"I'm hanging up now," Dean said quietly.

"You do that," I spat, slamming the phone back onto the nightstand, shaking my head.

Charlie sucked on her fingers and watched me with as much interest as a three-week-old could muster as I tried to decide whether I wanted to get up or not. As I sat up, Sam's phone began to vibrate again and this time, my psychic sister's name popped up on the screen. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore her, but as soon as the call went to voicemail, she was calling back, insistent on me answering.

 _Pick up the fucking phone, Serendipity._ I could her Grace's voice in my head.

I rolled my eyes and slid my finger across the screen, answering the phone. "What the fuck was that?" she asked, not wasting any time. "Do you think you could stop making my husband feel like compete shit every time you have a conversation?"

"You can't tell me I'm wrong," I answered, standing from the bed and pacing around the room. "You can't tell me it doesn't bother you, Grace. He was in six other women. Six!" I shook my head, forcing the visualization out of my mind. "There is no woman on the face of this planet that it wouldn't bother."

"Of course it bothers me, Serra," she answered loudly. It sounded like she was driving. "But I've seen his thoughts, his memories. I know it wasn't him. I've made him into two separate people."

"It doesn't change the fact that every time you sleep with him, you're sleeping with six new people. Have you thought about having him checked for STDs? I mean, who knows what kind of scum the demon version may have brought home."

"He doesn't have any STDs, Serra."

"How do you know?"

"Because the angel that rode around in me for forty weeks told me."

I clicked my tongue, trying to find anything to say to my sister to make her see Dean the same way I did now. "Grace," I began, staring down at Charlie, "something in him changed. He's different. You're different. There's not much you can say to argue with that."

Grace paused on the phone. The only sound I could hear was the roar of The Tank's engine as she drove home from dropping the kids off at school. "I know we are," she replied finally. "But it's okay. Anyone would be different after something like that. We have barely had any time to recover. Faith is only three weeks old. I've kinda been at her beck and call."

I glanced down at Charlotte. "Yeah," I said, rubbing my eyes. "I know the feeling."

"Quit bringing it up every time you two have a conversation," Grace said with finality. "I'm tired of having to defend you and talk him off a cliff. It's exhausting."

"Fine," I answered, shaking my head. "I just need to be sure that he's not going to hurt you again."

"He won't," Grace replied, her patience running thin.

I hung up the phone without another word and turned back to my daughter. "Your aunt is a pain in my ass," I told her. Charlie cooed in response and flapped her hands and, throwing a blanket over her own face accidentally.

 _I'm just returning the favor._ Grace's voice echoed through my mind once again.

"I thought you were done," I said aloud, bending to pick up Charlotte. "Besides, if you're going to just Bogart my brain, why did you bother calling?"

 _It's just easier to yell at you._

I chuckled and shook my head, beginning my way down the steps. "I'm getting coffee and then I'm heading over. We're going to tag team the girls today and just relax." I walked to the kitchen to pour myself some coffee in the mug that Sammy left out for me and smiled to myself. "If I only have three more weeks of maternity leave, I'm going to enjoy myself."

I paused, waiting for Grace to reply, but when I couldn't hear her voice, I tilted my head, mildly concerned. "Gracie?" I asked the room, still waiting.

My anxiety skyrocketed instantly and I walked to our living room window to stare out at the Big House. The Tank hadn't returned to its spot in their gravel driveway near the barn and my mind was still empty of my sister's commentary. "Grace?" I asked again, waiting as patiently as I could. I glanced down at my phone and considered calling her, but I retrained. No one was trying to kill her. She was fine. Something probably just distracted her momentarily.

I did what I could to keep my mind occupied and fed Charlie while I waited. I tapped Sam's phone every once and a while, still debating about calling. Finally, about ten minutes later, I couldn't stand it anymore. I picked up his phone and dialed Grace's number.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

I hit the red 'end' button and let my hand fall to the couch as Charlie continued to nurse. Picking up the phone again, I dialed my brother-in-law and waited for his deep voice to come over the line.

"Hey, Sammy," he answered, but then immediately corrected himself. "Wait, no. Serra. What's up?"

"Is Grace home yet?" I asked; my voice higher pitched than I wanted it to be.

He paused, probably shaking his head. "No," he began. "Why?" Faith's tiny voice was filling the background as a rare cry escaped her lips.

"We were talking and she just stopped," I said, our prior argument completely forgotten. "The only time I have ever not heard her respond to me telepathically is when she's unconscious."

"So, what?" Dean asked slowly, "She's unconscious?

"I don't know," I replied, shaking my head. "She's not answering her phone either. This is uncharted territory. Why does she always have to be so dramatic?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Grace

I opened my eyes slowly and wiped the blood from my forehead. There was still smoke floating lazily from under The Tank's hood and I stared at the dually pick up truck that had run a red light at plowed into me from out of nowhere. What good is being a psychic if I can't see something like that coming?

I couldn't get the door open on my side, so slowly, I slid across the bench seat to open the passenger side door. Rubbing my neck and shaking my head in disbelief at the damage, I chuckled ironically to myself. Dean would come unglued.

Slowly, I walked around to the driver's side of the Ford dually and tapped on the window. The thin, sickly man was unconscious and the air bags swallowed up most of the cabin, so I walked back to my truck and tried to find my cell phone. After a few minutes of looking and dripping blood on the carpet, I found it on the floor in the back seat. I dialed 911 and waited for it to connect.

"911, what is your emergency?" the operator asked, all business.

"A guy in a dually just ran a red and slammed into me," I answered, my words slightly slurred. I probably had a concussion.

"What is your name, ma'am?"

"Grace," I answered, leaning against the truck. "Grace Winchester."

"And do you know your location?"

I stood and glanced around, looking for where I was. I had dropped the twins and Liberty off at their respective schools only minutes prior and I struggled to make sense of the street signs. "Uh," I began, taking a breath, "I know I was on North Seven Hundred," I began, trying to find a cross street, "but I'm out in the farms." Finally, I caught a glimpse of the cross street where the dually had come from. I chuckled to myself, shaking my head. "We're on the corner of North Seven Hundred and Winchester Roads."

"Can you repeat that, ma'am?"

"I'm not making it up," I said, pointing to the signs. "North Seven Hundred and Winchester."

The operator was typing and she laughed quietly to herself. "Okay, ma'am, are you injured?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm fine," I said, knowing even if I wasn't, I would be in a matter of minutes. I glanced at the dually and my truck, locked in a sick sort of embrace. "But the guy that hit me is still unconscious."

"Okay, ma'am," the operator continued, "an emergency vehicle is on its way. I will advise you to stay in your vehicle as long as it is safe to do so."

I nodded, losing interest. My head was pounding and I wanted to get to healing so that I could deal with Dean and Serra over the phone before they moved Heaven and Earth trying to track me down. "Yeah, okay," I murmured, leaning against The Tank.

"Would you like to stay on the line until help arrives?" she asked, her voice concerned.

I shook my head slowly. "No, that's okay. I need to call my husband and my sister. I should have been home about ten minutes ago."

"Be safe," she said, hanging up.

I hung up as well and immediately dialed Dean's number. It didn't even finish ringing once and Dean's gruff answer came over the line. "What happened?" he asked, concern laced through his voice. "Serra said you just disappeared out of her mind."

"Yeah," I answered, closing my eyes, trying to heal the cut on my forehead before the ambulance arrived. "Some idiot T-boned me out in the farms."

"What?" he almost yelled, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Got a nice gash on my head that I'm in the process of healing, but Tank took most of the hit."

"Are the kids okay?"

I nodded again. "Yeah, they're at school," I said quietly. I could hear an ambulance in the distance. "I don't think Tank'll start. She's smoking pretty bad."

"I'm on my way. I'll have Stu or Tony drive out to get her with the tow truck." Dean sighed, happy that his wife was safe. "You and Sere have a weird-ass connection."

Smiling wistfully, I asked, "What did she do?"

"Called me. Said you two were in the middle of a conversation and you just disappeared." He clicked his tongue, "Oh, and Faith started crying about ten minutes ago. Maybe she's in on it too."

"Who knows with that one? She's gonna be the wild card," I agreed. "Seventy-five percent angel and a Winchester… The girl will be a problem." I turned as the ambulance came down the highway towards us with its lights flashing but the sirens were silent. "Ambulance is here. See you soon?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Where are you?"

"North Seven Hundred and Winchester."

"Seriously?"

I laughed. "Yeah. Dispatch didn't believe me either."

...

The EMTs filed out of the ambulance and came to patch me up, but I was already mostly healed, so all they did was clean the blood from my forehead and look confused. "Where are you bleeding from, ma'am?" the younger one asked.

I glanced at his nameplate. "I'm not, Mr. Goodwin," I said politely. "Don't worry about me. It's the guy in the dually that you should probably be working on."

Goodwin looked confused, but he seemed to accept my explanation and got up to jog across the deserted highway to join the other EMT near the truck. I rubbed my face and sat on the edge of The Tank's open floor as I waited for Dean. I could hear the open discussion from the EMTs; their voices carrying over the wind. As I turned towards their voices, I could tell that there was a tone of concern or fear. I got up to walk around the edge of The Tank and watched, as the EMTs seemed to be confused, raising their hands and turning around to stare at each other incredulously.

"What's the matter?" I asked, moving towards them slightly.

Goodwin glanced up at me and gestured to the truck that had plowed into the side of mine. "Was he conscious?" he asked.

"What?" I asked, "I don't think so. When I came over he was slumped over like that. He doesn't look good, huh?"

"This ain't nothing like I ever saw," Goodwin said, backing away from the dually.

I walked towards the driver's side door of the Ford with purpose and stood behind Goodwin and his partner. I peeked around his shoulder and took an audible gasp as I focused on a mummified form of a man, so thin that I could see the bones of his face heavily pronounced through his thin skin. His skin was barely hanging on to his musculature and it looked as though he had deflated. "Holy shit," I whispered, covering my mouth. "Is he dead?"

The EMTs nodded in tandem Goodwin spoke up, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. "If the crash didn't kill him, he would have been dead in a few days anyway."

Red flags were raising in my head, one after another, all from my history being a hunter. The driver of the dually looked almost mummified and I knew from experience that it wasn't natural. No human looked like that on their own. It was done to him.

In the background, I could hear the roar of the Impala's engine float over the early morning breeze.

I turned, waiting for Dean to drive up over the gradual hill and turned to stare at him. He pulled up next to us, got out of the Impala, and scooped me into a hug that showed how grateful he was that I was all right. Glancing at The Tank, he shook his head and pressed his lips together. "That's gonna be a bitch to put back together," he muttered, still staring. When I didn't reply instantly, he turned to look at me and upon seeing my eyes go wide, he asked, "Gracie, what's wrong?"

The EMTs were watching me carefully, making sure I was okay, but my shock wasn't from the accident. Aware of their eyes on me, I reached down and pressed my palm on Dean's bare arm. His look questioned me momentarily, but I pressed my memories of the sunken, mummified man through his mind with little effort. I watched his green eyes glaze over as he watched my thoughts play through his head.

Dean came back to me seconds later, staring at me, comprehension dawning on him quickly. He recovered, seeing the EMTs still standing near us, saying, "I'm glad you're okay. Dude hit you hard."

I nodded, ready to play my part. "Yeah, he came out of nowhere. I didn't even see him." We turned towards the Goodwin and I smiled at him. "Can't beat an old Chevy, right?"

Goodwin chuckled nervously, "Yeah," he said. "Thing's a tank."

I glanced back towards Dean and nodded towards the cop car that was pulling up to our scene as well. We turned in tandem to greet the patrol officer, Dean's arm still around my shoulders in a possessive posture.

"Howdy folks," the officer greeted, "everyone okay?"

"I am," I began, "but the guy that hit me isn't. Looks like a casualty."

The highway patrolman walked towards Goodwin and his partner. Goodwin was pale and as he wiped his face, he agreed with me. "She's right," he started. "But like I told her, if the crash hadn't killed him, he woulda been dead soon anyway." Goodwin gestured to the driver's side door and stepped away, closing his eyes. "I don't know where to begin."

The patrol officer stepped towards the open door and made a face, quickly backing away. "What the hell?" he asked, leaning towards his radio. "What's wrong with him?"

Goodwin shrugged and glanced toward his partner. "I don't know what to make of it," he repeated. "Scott's been in this a lot longer than I have, and he's never even heard about something like this. We just don't have that kind of malnutrition in this area. He looks like something sucked him dry."

The cop turned back towards me and I shrugged, at a loss for words. I glanced at his badge and noted his name as well. "Like I said, Officer Hall," I repeated, "he ran the red, came out of nowhere and blindsided me. I'm just glad our kids weren't in the truck."

Officer Hall turned towards Dean and nodded. "Were you in the truck with her?" he asked.

"No," Dean replied, "she called me afterwards. I just got here." He gestured towards the Impala and shrugged. "We live close by. She was dropping the kids off at school."

The highway patrol officer nodded and glanced back at the dually that contained what was left of the mummified mess that was once a man. "I guess I'll call it in to the coroner's office. They'll just have to sort this out." He walked back to his patrol car and the EMTs retreated back towards the ambulance, having nothing but paper work to do.

I glanced back up at Dean and tilted my head. "What happened to him, a shifter? Don't they feed on people like that?" I asked, whispering. "What are the chances of a shifter in Lawrence? Werewolves? Vampires? It's like we're a magnet for monsters."

Dean lowered his voice. "We're not going to get involved, Gracie. I'm not hunting with Faith being a newborn. Leaving you home with all of the kids would be stupid."

"I know," I whispered, "but they could be feeding on people in town. They could become someone you know and not realize it. I have no idea how my abilities work with them…I was only a by-touch psychic last time I encountered one and I have no idea if I can hear them or tell them apart from the rest of the civilians. We would be deaf and blind."

"That's why we're staying home," Dean countered as our tow truck crested the hill behind us. I nodded in agreement and we turned to see Tony behind the wheel with a grin on his face.

I rolled my eyes and looked away, clicking my tongue.

Dean glanced at me and asked, "What?"

"He's mentally undressing me," I muttered, looking away. "He's been hitting on me since he thought you left me."

"God, I hate that kid," Dean said, shaking his head. "Can't I just fire him because I don't like him?"

"As long as you give him two weeks," I replied, sighing. "Or a severance package."

"I don't want to do either one of those things."

Officer Hall approached us as he was filling out paperwork about the accident. "That was fast," he commented, nodding towards the tow truck. "They usually take their sweet ass time getting out to the scene."

Dean smiled lightly. "We own the body shop in town," he said, shrugging. "Winchester Family Auto? I made the call when she called me."

The cop smiled knowingly. "That makes sense," he replied. "Winchester Auto…didn't that place used to be Precision?"

Nodding, Dean leaned against the Tank and smiled. "Yeah, we bought it a couple of years back."

"Good for you," the cop replied. "Nice to see a young family getting in on the ground floor. Hard work pays off, don't it?"

Dean nodded. "Yes, sir," he agreed as Tony approached the scene.

"Hey Deano," Tony greeted, throwing me a grin. "Wifey total the truck?"

Deadpan, Dean replied, "No, that guy T-boned her. She's lucky to be alive."

Tony raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Oh, dude," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Wouldn't want nothing to happen to fair Grace."

"Oh, shut up, Tony," I said, pressing my lips together. "Hook up the truck."

The EMTs left shortly thereafter and the patrol officer took pictures before Tony was allowed to hook up the Tank and pull it aboard the flatbed tow truck. Another truck appeared not long after, along with the coroner, to take more photos of the sunken, mummified victim and the accident from different angles.

Finally, after almost two hours of explaining what happened to the cop and the coroner, I turned towards Officer Hall and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. "Can I go home yet?" I asked, making a face, trying my hardest not to show the discomfort I was feeling from not nursing my daughter in over three hours. "We have a newborn at home and she needs to nurse. I need her to nurse."

The cops and the coroner turned to me and nodded together comically. "Yes, of course," Officer Hall replied apologetically. "We've got everything we need from you. The insurance companies will be calling to get your statement as well, so make sure you talk to your agent."

"Yeah, that's fine," I said, glancing at Dean. I approached the Impala, pulling open the passenger door and sliding in next to Dean. "Thank you, Officer Hall."

"Not to worry," he replied, leaning down. "We'll get all of this funny business sorted out."

On the drive home, Dean looked at me and shook his head. "Trouble always seems to find you, doesn't it, babe?"

I chuckled and rubbed my chest, trying not to think about the stabbing pain that wound its way though my bra. "Yeah," I said, shaking my head. "A shifter."

"We haven't seen a shifter in years," he agreed, looking back towards the highway. "All deflated like that...seems weird, right?."

"Tell me about it," I agreed. "His bones were just about sticking out of his face."

Dean made a face and stuck out his tongue. "That's gross."

"Yeah, you didn't see it." I hunched over myself, clutching my chest.

"What is the matter with you?" Dean asked, tilting his head.

I sighed, closing my eyes. "Faith didn't eat before I left because I assumed that I would be back in twenty five minutes. I'm so engorged, it hurts."

Closing his eyes slightly, he sighed. "I'm going to step around that one."

"It's probably for the best."

"I left Serra with both babies," Dean continued. "Let's see if all three of them are still alive."

We pulled into the gravel driveway and I waited for him to walk around the car and take my hand as we continued up the porch. Serra opened the door for us, holding one of the girls. "Are you okay?" she asked, hugging me. She let go quickly and glanced down at me. "Holy shit," she whispered, "Pick a baby and feed her." Dean looked confused but Serra ignored him as I sat down, taking Faith and preparing to nurse. "How long have you been in pain?"

"About the last thirty minutes," I answered, trying not to wince as Faith eagerly latched on and began to nurse. "I feel like I'm running a fever."

"Well, your tits were so hard, it was like you had rocks in there." She glanced up at Dean and chuckled at the expression on his face. "This is why men don't carry babies. You wouldn't be able to handle half of the shit that happens to our bodies."

Faith and I got settled and Serra and Dean sat down around me. "So what happened?" Serra asked, glancing at Dean. "He said somebody hit you?"

"Yeah," I answered, leaning my head back on the couch. "Big dually ran the red and plowed into the driver's side."

Serra made a face, closing her eyes. "You know how I feel about duallys," she muttered. "They kidnap you and drag you to Hell to be tortured in the mud."

"Yeah," I agreed, "you wouldn't have liked this one either." I glanced at Dean and continued. "The guy that hit me? I'm pretty sure he was fed on by a shifter."

"Are you kidding?"

I shook my head, "Dude was deflated," I began, "almost mummified. His bones were poking out of his face."

"That was a gross and an unnecessary detail, Grace."

"Seriously," I said, pressing on. "The impact broke his face almost in half."

Serra glanced at Dean and then they both turned towards me. "No," I said, directing my word towards my overly excited sister.

"No, what?" she replied, smiling.

"We're not hunting the shifters."

She looked towards Dean and then back at me. He was purposefully avoiding her gaze, so she continued. "What? If we don't, Grace, who will?"

"It's not my problem."

Serra clicked her tongue at me and went back to feeding Charlotte. Dean walked through the living room, patting his pockets and looking around. I pointed to the kitchen table and he said, "Thank you," walking over to the table and picking up his keys and his wallet. "Okay," he began, turning towards us. "You two staying together today?"

We nodded in tandem.

"Jody will be by later to see if you need anything. I'm already two hours late, so I'll probably have to stay to make sure everything gets caught up."

I nodded again, closing my eyes now that I was beginning to feel some relief after feeding Faith. "Whatever," I said, "but we're going to have to get new seats for the kids and put them in the Shaggin' Wagon for now. We don't have a car that will hold everyone at the same time."

Dean sighed and shook his head. "For now, I'll send Sam for Lib when he gets Levi and I'll get the twins at four," he said, glancing at the clock once again. "I'll see how bad the Tank is and hopefully order some parts today." He kissed me swiftly and bent down to kiss Faith's forehead. "See you later," he said, closing the door behind him.

As soon as she heard the Impala drive back down the driveway and head off towards the shop, Serra turned to me and tilted her head. "We're hunting that shifter."

"Serra," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "We are not hunting the shifter. There is a newborn literally attached to you right now. You did the same thing when Levi was born," I explained, my tone serious. "You got all cabin-feverish and freaked the hell out of Sam. Why can't you just take this as a vacation? Take it easy."

"You know I'm not built like that," Serra argued. "This isn't normal for me. Being domestic? Sitting on a couch and watching TV? We didn't even do that as teenagers. Why would we do it now?"

"Because we didn't get to do it as teenagers," I countered. "We have been fighting for our lives since we were old enough to walk. Aren't you tired?"

Serra shook her head. "I'm not old, like you."

I pressed my lips together into a fine line. "Serendipity, I swear to God, if you go after that shifter, I will nail your bedroom door closed. I'm tired. I have four kids." I rolled my eyes and switched Faith to my other side. "I have been chasing your ass around since you were fifteen. I'm done."

"So let me go after it."

"And make me raise your two kids when it kills you? No."

"What if I took Sam with me?"

I rolled my eyes. "So your kids are orphans? No."

Serra clicked her tongue and leaned back into the couch cushion, refusing to look at me. I could hear the steady stream of her thoughts as she searched for a way for me to support her hunting endeavor. Finally, she seemed to come to some sort of conclusion; her thoughts slowed and she glanced up at me. "What if Dean and I went?"

"What if nobody goes?" I countered, finally raising my voice and making Faith jump against me. "What if we stop talking about it and pretend we are average people: just civilians with newborns."

"Civilians are vulnerable."

"Goddammit, Serra," I said, slamming my hand down on the arm of the couch. "What hunters do you know besides us that are still alive? No one in that life lives this long. No one has a chance to lead a life like we have in the past and somehow make it through to settle down and have kids." I could feel the burn of anger towards my sister in my chest and I fought to make my point. "We don't deserve what we have, and we keep pressing our luck, fighting vampires and werewolves and going to Heaven and Hell, getting people back that should have been gone." I shook my head and took a deep breath. "If there's more than the one shifter, we keep our heads down and protect what we have. We are _not_ going out, looking for it."

Serra seemed to understand that this was the end of the discussion and glanced down at a now-sleeping Charlotte. She pulled her away from her body to fix her shirt and brought the baby up against her chest to pat her softly.

I got up to put Faith in her play pen across the room and I turned to stare at the top of my sister's head. It was shocking to me that she still took my opinion so seriously and I wanted to steer her in the right direction without being a bitch, but she had to understand that we were not immortal. If we kept chasing after monsters, eventually, we would get killed. We were vulnerable, too.

I walked quietly back towards her and sat down on the arm of the couch. "Listen to me, Luck," I spoke quietly. "You probably don't remember much from when mom died, but it was rough." She stared up at me and watched me with a defeated look in her eyes. I pressed on, "And you remember, very clearly I'm sure, what it was like to lose dad." She broke eye contact and stared at the TV. "Do you really want to do that to your kids?"

Serra took a deep, shaky breath and finally looked up at me. "You know I don't," she whispered, finally seeing it from my side.

"Thank you." I slid to my spot in the cushions of the couch and avoided her gaze momentarily. I could still feel the searing emotion that rattled through my volatile little sister, but I did my best to avoid it. I just hoped that she was telling the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dean

The life of a Winchester vehicle was a difficult one, to say the least. I stared at the Tank and shook my head, visually pulling apart the frame and seeing the damage underneath. It wasn't a pretty picture. Tilting my head to pop my neck, I glanced around the shop to see the guys all milling about, doing what they were getting paid to do. Stu was under an Oldsmobile Cutlass 442 that he was preparing for a big block and new shocks and Tony was in the paint stall, taping off an El Camino that looked a lot like Sammy's. The new guy, Mike, had proven a job well done, re-chroming a Bonneville. My tech guys were all busy as well; replacing fan belts and spark plugs…there was no one to boss around so I figured it was finally my turn to get dirty again.

Shrugging out of my flannel, I tossed it onto the toolbox at the end of my bay and smiled. "Hey, old girl," I greeted, feeling the creases of metal where the shifter's victim had plowed into my wife. "Thanks for taking care of Gracie."

The Tank didn't reply, of course, but I could still feel the connection I had to it. It was the truck that cared for and protected my family when I wasn't around to do so. She had done a really good job, too.

Most of the damage was Grace's driver's side door and the front-end quarter panel. I would have to take off both the door and the hood and then replace the tires so they all matched, then the radiator, the battery connector, and most of the spark plugs. The carburetor was off kilter slightly, so I would have to check the mounts, but the rest of the engine seemed intact, but only time would tell.

I had managed to get the door off its hinges and take off the hood before my phone rang the first time. I glanced at the clock and sighed. It had only been two and a half hours, but it was already one thirty five in the afternoon. Time was ticking away. I pulled myself off the floor and wiped my hands on my jeans, reaching for my phone.

"Hey, Sammy," I answered, seeing Serra's name come up on the screen on my phone.

"How'd you know it was me?" he asked; a smile in his voice.

"Oh, I'm way ahead of you, brother. It's already been a day and a half."

Sam adjusted in his chair. I could hear the squeak through the speaker of the phone. "Why?" he asked. "What happened?"

"Some asshole ran the red and blindsided Grace when she was on her way home from dropping off the kids," I explained, leaning against my toolbox.

"Oh my God, is she okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine," I answered, shrugging, "but the Tank got hit pretty hard. And the guy that hit her? Pretty sure he got taken out by a shifter first."

There was a long pause from Sam as he processed the information. "A shifter," he repeated. "A shape shifter?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I agreed. "Crazy, right?"

Sam was silent for a second or two more and he took a deep breath and sighed. "Does Serra know there was a shifter within fifty miles of her?"

"She does now," I replied, taking a drink of my old, cold coffee. Making a face, I tossed it into the trashcan and glanced at the bay to my right. Serra's truck was sitting on the lift, stripped down to the frame. It had taken me weeks to track down the new panels for her truck and until I had all the pieces, I wouldn't be able to reassemble. The sheet metal of the old body of her truck had taken a beating not too long ago and the bullet holes that had been scattered across it were too many to fix. It was another Winchester vehicle that I was grateful for. It had, again, saved the lives of two of the most important women in my life. I refocused my attention on Sam and chuckled. "She probably wants to go hunting, huh?"

"I can guarantee it," Sammy agreed. "You're not going to try and track down any more, are you? If you do, I won't be able to talk her down."

I was shaking my head. "No, Sammy," I said quietly. "After what I did…" I sighed heavily, closing my eyes. "I wouldn't do that to Grace. I can't leave her again."

Sam was quiet as he waited for me to work through the guilt I had constantly bubbling at the surface. After a few moments, he offered, "It wasn't your fault, Dean."

"Yeah, everyone keeps saying that."

"Because it's true," he said quietly. "Grace knows that more than anyone."

I closed my eyes and shook him off. "That's not going to stop me from trying to earn my way back." I decided a change of subjects was necessary, so I glanced towards Serra's truck again. "Got the tailgate yesterday," I said, forcing my tone to improve. "I'm just missing the hood and passenger door now."

"Oh, to Serra's truck?" Sammy asked.

"Yeah," I agreed. "It's been a bitch to track all the pieces down, rust free. I wish I coulda talked her into just getting the pre-made rebuild kits. I'm worried about finding the hood. I got a hold of a guy in Cincinnati, but I think he's got a '72, not a '71. The grill might be slightly different."

"Will she even notice?"

Closing my eyes and shaking my head, I said, "Of course she'll notice. Are we even talking about the same woman?"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, you're right," he agreed. He paused and took a breath, asking, "So are we going hunting?"

I clicked my tongue and shook my head. "What did I just tell you?" I shot back. "I'm not leaving Grace with four kids by herself."

"Yeah," Sam said. "You keep saying that."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sam

"There are many legends and myths that circle around Stonehenge, dating back as far as eight thousand BC, and of course, there is also plenty of local folklore," I explained, leaning on the side of my desk as I faced my students. "One of my favorites is about the 'Heel Stone' in which a friar from Ireland and the Devil get into an argument about the origin on Stonehenge itself." I took a deep breath as I glanced around the room. Most of the students in my class were female and I couldn't help but hear Dean in my head, calling me 'Indiana Jones' one too many times. "The story goes that the Devil tells the friar that no one will ever be able to describe exactly how Stonehenge came to be, but the friar argues with him, saying that humankind is intelligent and that the Stonehenge creation story will get passed down for generations." I chuckled at the details I was describing. "In the end, the Devil throws the Heel Stone at the friar and leaves it there, covering his body with the gigantic rock."

Most of my students made notes while I spoke, looking up at the slides on the presentation as I went along. Others leaned back in their chairs, a lot like my wife and Dean, trying to stay as interested as they could without falling asleep. Some simply sat erect and listened, the way Grace and Cas did, absorbing everything I had to say into their brains like a sponge.

One of my students raised her hand, tilting her head patiently. "Does the Heel Stone actually exist?" she asked after I acknowledged her.

I nodded, changing slides with the remote in my hand. "Yes," I explained, pointing. "There are some theories that it lines up with the sun during Summer Solstice, but there are a lot of doubts about it. It's probably why the legends still exist. Who knows if we'll ever really figure out why it was placed there." I walked around to the edge of my podium and opened the textbook in front of me. "There's a nice diagram of Stonehenge on page six twenty-two, and then you can see a photo of the Heel Stone on page six thirty-six."

You could hear a rustle of books being opened and pages being flipped as I gazed around my classroom. There was a student in the back of the auditorium that looked vaguely disinterested, but he flipped open the book anyway and stared down at the page. I knew it was probably because Charlotte had been keeping us up for the past few nights or so, but I swear I saw his skin color fade darker then lighter in the blink of an eye. I did a double take, knowing it was my eyes playing tricks on me, especially considering I had just spoken to Dean about the dead victim of a shape shifter, but it was disconcerting to say the least.

I glanced down at the seating chart I had in the front of my binder and glanced at the name. Pursing my lips, I tilted my head, knowing full well that the young man sitting in the back was not Alexandra Carpenter.

"Do me a favor," I began, trying to stay focused on what I was teaching, "and take a look at the diagram on page six twenty three and see if you can come up with a theory as to why the Heel Stone may have been placed where it was placed and how it may interact with the other stones."

There was another series of ruffling of pages as I turned away from my podium and began my typical walk around the room to aid in conversation with the students in my class. I carried the seating chart with me and began checking the other people in their seats to see if Alexandra was the only one that wasn't where she should have been.

Checking the first row successfully, I moved on to the second and saw that Alexandra was sitting in the seat in front of where she should have been. "Hey, Ms. Carpenter?" I asked. "What gives? You moved seats without telling me."

"Oh, yeah," she said, glancing up at the boy sitting in her seat. "Sorry, Mr. Winchester. He was there on Tuesday and I figured it wasn't that big of a deal."

I shrugged and turned my attention to the boy in the back. "Hi," I said, addressing him. "I'm sorry, since the semester just started, I'm not sure of all your names yet. Who are you?"

The boy glanced up and looked instantly nervous. "I, uh," he began. "Tyler," he said, "I was waitlisted for the class and was just able to get registered. Sorry."

"Tyler…?"

"Tyler Tokunaga."

I made a note on my attendance sheet and nodded at him. "Thank you, Mr. Tokunaga. Welcome to World Religions 240."

…

Later that afternoon, after class and during office hours, I brought out my phone, well, Serra's phone, and dialed my own number. Serra answered after a ring or two and sounded breathless. "Hey, Sammy," she breathed. "What's up?"

"Not much," I answered, restacking the set of assessments that I had yet to grade. "Why are you out of breath?"

"Because I'm out of shape," she answered, sounding irritable. "The phone was across the room and I've been walking your daughter up and down the stairs for the last half and hour or so because she apparently hates everything."

"My daughter?" I asked, shaking my head. I could hear the pathetic cries in the background and smiled lightly to myself. "She doesn't hate everything," I replied, shaking my head. "She just hasn't figured out what she likes yet."

"She'd better figure it out soon," Serra answered shortly. "Her cousin is beating her in the 'ease of care' category. Kid never makes a sound."

"Well," I began, running a hand through my hair. "She is three-quarters angel."

Serra clicked her tongue and sighed in reply. "I'm getting really sick of everyone bringing that up. It's gonna give her a complex."

My attention shifted to the girl I had spoken to earlier about the new student taking her seat. She had come to the doorway of my classroom and was waiting patiently, leaning against the doorframe. "Hi, Ms. Carpenter," I greeted, holding the phone away from my face. "I gotta go, Sere," I said, bringing my attention back towards my wife. "I have office hours right now and then Dean wants me to get Libby when I go get Levi."

Serra must have nodded, because she remained silent.

"You okay?" I asked. Most of the time, it was the absence of sound that caused me the most concern when it came to the volatile nature of my wife.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Serra said, ending the conversation.

"No you're not," I countered, sighing. "But we'll talk about it when I get home."

"Whatever," Serra answered. She was irritated, but I couldn't tell if it was because I didn't have time to talk to her or because I knew she wanted to hunt the shape shifter that may or may not exist.

I glanced at the doorway again and shook my head, smiling lightly. "I'll bring you pulled pork and mac and cheese if you relax a little."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone as I could almost see Serra narrow her eyes while she considered my offer. Finally, she gave in and sighed. "Yeah, alright." She said, a slight smile in her voice. "Double helping of mac."

"Deal," I said, "see you soon."

She hung up the phone and I turned towards Alexandra. "Hello, Ms. Carpenter," I greeted. "Come on in."

She smiled and walked towards me, taking the seat in front of my desk. "Hi," she replied, folding her hands in her lap after setting down her backpack. "I came to talk about the paper you assigned us?"

I nodded, waiting for her to continue.

"The World Heritage Sites have to be from the Neolithic period, right?"

I nodded again, leaning forward on my desk. "Yeah," I agreed, "the idea is to get a feel of the similarities between them."

"So can I choose Stonehenge?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

I pursed my lips, tilting my head. "You could," I began, smiling lightly. "But I would only give you about half credit, considering I've already done all of the research."

Alexandra smiled and glanced at her hands. "Okay, I just wanted to check," she said, crossing her legs. "There are so many to choose from, I don't even know where to begin."

"Start with something that interests you," I explained, leaning back in my chair. "You'll do the best research if you actually care about what you're researching." I shrugged. "Then go from there." She nodded and I glanced towards the doorframe once more. Tyler Tokunaga was standing there, waiting his turn. He looked ill: slightly off color and sullen. "Hi, Mr. Tokunaga," I said. "Can you hold on just a second?" He nodded and I went back to Alexandra. "I'll give you a hint: if you like Stonehenge, there are plenty of Neolithic structures that were created around the same time as Stonehenge was, with many similarities to it. You could always build your paper comparing the two."

Alexandra made a note on her syllabus of the class and nodded excitedly. "Thanks," she said, writing something else. "And when is it due?"

"Two weeks," I said, pointing at the calendar on the board. "You have until the seventh to submit it online."

She nodded once more, standing and smiling. "So you're married, huh?" she asked, staring at the framed photo of Serra and I that leaned against my bookcase behind my desk. "She's pretty."

I turned to glance at the photo. It was taken in Dean and Grace's barn, right after we were married. "Yeah, she is," I agreed, smiling. "Makes real pretty babies, too."

"Kids, too, huh?" she added.

I nodded, pressing my lips together. "Yep. We have a three-year-old son and she just had my baby girl three weeks ago."

Alexandra's mouth dropped open a little bit, but she nodded anyway. "Oh, wow," she whispered. "You must be older than I think you are."

"Thanks," I said, chuckling ironically and shaking my head. "If that's all you need," I led, gesturing to the door, "Mr. Tokunaga probably has some academic-based questions to ask."

"Oh," she replied, flustered. "Right. Sorry." Alexandra bent to scoop her backpack from the floor and headed towards the door. "Thanks, Mr. Winchester."

"No problem," I said smiling. I turned towards Tyler and gestured to the chair in front of my desk. "Come on in, Mr. Tokunaga." He came in slowly, looking like he was in pain. Moving towards the chair took him longer than it should have, but he moved as if he was an old man. "You okay?" I asked, as we both sat down.

"Yeah," he said dismissively, "I guess. I think I've been fighting something off lately."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, watching him carefully.

Tyler nodded. "Yeah, it's like all of my bones ache. It hurts to move."

I leaned forward on the desk and watched him carefully, automatically falling into research mode. With Dean telling me about the shifter just that morning, I was on high alert, but this seemed odd. If something like a shifter had been feeding on Tyler, as I thought it might be, he would have wounds on his neck or wrists. From where I sat, I could see nothing like that, but the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I was overreacting.

I shook my head, trying to stay focused. I needed to finish up office hours so that I would have time to stop and get food to appease my irritable wife. "What can I help you with, Mr. Tokunaga?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Grace

"The insurance agent just called," I said, glancing at the clock as I spoke to Dean over the phone. "Said that the case has been ruled a fatality and that there will be complications when it comes to pay outs and deductibles."

"Well, considering he was also a victim of a monster," Dean chuckled. "It might throw a wrench into their coverage limitations."

It had been over a week since the accident and it was the first time that the insurance company had made contact with me. I knew it was because they had no idea what to do with the mummified, at-fault fatality, but we needed the cash we were owed to make repairs on the Tank. Dean had been working relentlessly on both the Tank and Serra's truck, but honestly, we needed to worry about our business. We couldn't keep shelling out money to repair something we had insurance for.

I rolled my eyes dismissively and turned to glance at Faith, who had been watching me, unmoving. "Your daughter is staring at me again."

"Oh that creepy thing where she just lays there?" Dean asked. I could tell that he was making a face. "Wide-eyed and weird?"

Nodding, I raised my eyebrows at her. "Yep," I agreed. "You hear that, kiddo?" I asked, walking towards her slowly, "Daddy thinks you're weird, too."

Faith closed her eyes slowly, almost showing that she had very little patience for what we were talking about. The difference in Everett had been astounding, just in the five weeks that Faith had been around. It had gotten so much easier that I really didn't understand what all of the other mothers were complaining about. Having four children was a walk in the park…of course we would never be able to consider our kids normal. We had two psychics (a quarter angel, each), a new Mark of Cain, and a three-quarters angel that seemed to have very little tolerance for anyone's humor. Honestly, Faith reminded me so much of Cas that it was a little eerie at times. I closed my eyes, pushing the thought away and struggled to find my place in the conversation again.

I listened as Dean held the phone away from his ear to speak to one of the guys at the shop and waited patiently for my turn with my husband. After a few seconds of me touching her toes and playing with her fingers, Faith opened her eyes and glared at me once again with as much irritation as a five-week-old could muster. I laughed at her expression and shook my head. "Fine," I said, holding the phone against my shoulder and my ear. "I'll put you down. Go take a nap. Jeeze." I picked her up out of her bouncer and walked her up the steps to change her diaper and put her into her crib.

"What?" came Dean's voice, directed back at me.

"I was talking to Faith. She's so irritable."

He chuckled, closing the door to his office. "She reminds me of how Cas was before he got all human," he said, sitting at his desk. "Like a pissed off puppy with wild hair."

"I was just thinking that," I answered, smiling, trying not to flush with embarrassment. I really had to get a handle on myself; we were completely innocent. Cas had simply used me as a vessel. The teasing about Faith being Castiel's daughter was sometimes too much for me to ignore.

I bent to put Faith in her crib and she was breathing deeply before I got to her door. "You know," I began, clicking the door shut and refocusing on my husband, "I'm really nailing this whole 'motherhood' thing. I feel pretty good about myself."

"Well, I would think so, after four kids."

Staring into the mirror at the end of the hall, I tilted my head, happy with how I looked. My abilities had allowed my body to bounce back almost immediately, looking how I did before I was ever pregnant. I knew Serra was having a harder time. She was still unhappy with how Charlotte had stretched out her stomach and it was taking longer to lose the baby weight than it had with Levi. Honestly, I knew it was because she was getting older and we hadn't been as active as we used to be. Though it didn't always seem like it, considering we had been in the car most of the time, hunting was a very active lifestyle (considering we also never ate on a predictable basis) and domestication made us a bit…soft.

"Grace?" Dean asked, wondering where I had gone.

"Yeah, I'm still here."

He shifted in his chair and leaned forward at his desk, the scruff on his face making static through the phone as he adjusted. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low.

I sighed and smiled at the flirtatious edge to his voice. "Staring at myself in the mirror."

"You like what you see?"

Smiling as I walked towards our bedroom, I shrugged. "Do you?"

Dean sighed from his end of the phone, but I could tell there was a smile in his voice. "More than ever," he whispered. "Didn't think it was possible."

"Come home and prove it."

His breath caught in his throat and I knew he would mentally go through the list of things he still had to do in the shop. My beautiful husband had gotten so damn responsible. "Grace, it's only one-fifteen," he said slowly. "And I still have the Pontiac to inspect and sign off on…" I tapped into his thoughts telepathically as I had done so many times before and smiled coyly. He was resisting, but I knew I had him hooked.

"The kids are all at school or asleep. I'm here, by myself, wearing nothing but a black tank and those little purple shorts that you like." Grinning to myself, I let my hair down and sat in the big, fluffy chair that we had in the corner of the bedroom.

I knew Dean was closing his eyes, trying not to picture me, but I watched his thoughts as he failed miserably, even adding the detail of my long blonde hair cascading down my back. He sighed and rubbed his face, trying to stay focused on the shop. "We're getting a shipment at the end of the day of all of the new electrical equipment and I need to be here so they can install it."

I brought my leg up to rest my heel on the edge of the cushion of the chair and tilted my head, making the theatrics a little bit more excessive. I sighed heavily into the phone. "You can always go back to the shop later, if you can pull yourself away from me." Dean had already begun mentally undressing me and I smiled, watching the image of him pulling off my tank to reveal a black, lacy bra. "No, no, no," I continued, biting my lip. "I'm not wearing that one. The pink one," I corrected. "The pink one with the little black bow in the center."

"Grace, what are you trying to do to me?" Dean asked with his eyes closed, rubbing his face and whining slightly. "If I come home, you have to let me go back later."

"We'll see," I purred.

I could almost see Dean close his green eyes and nod, his decision made. "I'll be right there," he growled, hanging up the phone.

Leaning back in the chair, I grinned to myself as I waited for my husband to come home.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Dean

Grace has the uncanny ability to make me do pretty much anything she wants me to do. It's a very dangerous power, but good thing for me, she uses it for good and not evil.

Although, evil is acceptable, too.

It only took me twelve minutes to drive home from the shop. I parked in the gravel driveway and jogged up the steps of the porch. As I closed and locked the front door, I headed towards our bedroom, losing layers of clothes as I walked through the house. She was sitting, exactly as I pictured, in the corner of the room. I didn't even say anything to greet her: just crossed the room, wrapped myself around her, and pulled her from the chair, making out with her as I held her against my chest.

It was true, what I told her over the phone. If anything, the hunger I had for my wife had gotten more desperate as our marriage grew older. The recent time we had spent apart had only proven that I no longer knew how to function when I was away from her.

I came up for air and stared into her blue eyes, shaking my head. "I'm going straight back," I muttered, as she attacked my neck.

She replied with a doubtful agreeing sound that was muffled against my skin, and continued to use her tongue to get me to bend to her every will. I sat on the edge of the bed, carrying her with me. We collapsed backwards on the mattress and she straddled me as she pulled off the black tank she wore. Sure enough, there was that pink and black bra, with the tiny black bow between her breasts. I closed my eyes as she undid my belt and pulled off my jeans.

For the next hour and a half, we were a tangle of sheets, blonde hair, and limbs. I couldn't get enough of her and she knew it; that familiar little smug half grin finding her lips periodically. "You look mighty pleased with yourself," I murmured, pushing her unruly blonde hair away from my face.

She stretched, arching her back slightly as she did, pulling the sheet tightly against her body. It drove me wild. That half-smile showed again and she closed her eyes, turning towards me. "Mm-hmm," she agreed, patting my arm.

"What, you drag me home, and now that you've gotten yours, I'm dismissed?"

"Pretty much," Grace whispered with her eyes closed, still grinning.

I laughed and laid back into the pillows, glancing at the clock next to me. "Well played, wife," I said, chuckling. Sitting up, I looked around for my shirt and pulled it on. I could feel the tips of her fingers as she reached for my back, mentally begging me not to go. I glanced back at her and raised my eyebrows. "I have to go back to work," I answered her telepathic plea. "The electricians are going to be there at three." I chuckled and shook my head. "I have fifteen minutes to get back to the shop and supervise and sign off on the inspection."

"Let Stu handle it."

I wanted to lean back towards her so badly, but restrained. "This isn't over, half-angel," I said, shaking my head. "I'll figure out a way to get even."

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes and giggled. "Big talk there, hunter."

I leaned towards her and kissed her deeply. "I'll see you later."

Walking towards the door, I winked at her and I headed back to the shop.

…

I stopped for coffee at the local gas station and was about two minutes away from the shop when my phone began to ring. I pulled it out of my pocket as I dug for my keys on the other side, trying to balance the cup of coffee on the side of my palm. "Hey, Stu," I greeted, "I know, I'm coming."

"I figured," he replied. "They're unloading now and said you need to sign the invoice."

I checked my watch and shook my head. "Man, they're punctual," I commented as I threw two bucks on the counter of the mini-mart. "I'm just down the street. I'll be right there."

"See you in a bit," Stu said, hanging up the phone.

I pushed the glass door of the mart open with my shoulder and almost knocked down a young woman who was heading towards the entrance, not even seeing her as I struggled to put my phone back in my pocket. "Oh, shit," I said, jumping back. "I'm sorry. Didn't see you."

She glanced up at me and shook her head. "It's okay," she croaked, her voice hoarse. She held herself slightly hunched over, as if she was in pain. I held the door open for her and watched as she hobbled inside, heading towards the pain relievers.

It may have been because I was comparing her with my vision of a perfectly nude and curvy Grace, but this woman looked as if she had been deflated. She was sullen and skeletal, her skin hanging loosely from her body as if she had lost a lot of weight really quickly. She thanked me for holding the door as she moved past me. I lingered for only a minute longer, watching her, but my responsibilities at the shop pressed me in to motion.

I started up Baby and gunned it a few times, backing up and peeling out of the parking lot.

…

"Yeah, that's fine," I said, shrugging. "I just don't want to blow a fuse ever time we want to run the diagnostics." The crew of workers had been assembling my new fuse box in the back of the shop, running wires all over, making sure each bay had the new ability to run its own diagnostics computer. I grinned as I sipped my coffee. Winchester Family Auto was finally starting to go Big Time.

"Hey," greeted Sam's familiar voice and I turned, gesturing to the crew.

"Look it, Sammy," I said, grinning. "Finally got my diagnostics equipment." Sam nodded and smiled, handing me a pink backpack. I slung it across my back and glanced around for my eldest daughter, whom Sam had picked up from school. "Where's Lib?"

"Out in the front," he answered, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Flirting with the electrician behind the counter."

"I'll rip his lungs out," I said, turning towards the front end of the shop.

Sam stopped me, chuckling. "Shut up," he said, holding out his palm. "She's digging in the back of the Shaggin' Wagon for the sixteen crayons she dropped when we turned the corner. Everett and Glory are with her."

I visibly relaxed and shook my head. "Not funny," I muttered, taking another sip of coffee. "You wanna switch cars or take the twins home?"

"I'll just take everyone home," he said, tilting his head. "Looks like you're still busy here."

I nodded slowly, raising my eyebrows. "Yeah, Grace called me home," I explained, shrugging. "Lost about two hours of work time."

"Why? Is she okay?"

I nodded, pursing my lips. "Horny," I finally answered.

Sam made a face and shook his head. "That was unnecessary."

"Don't be mad because my wife called me home for a nooner."

Backing away from me, Sam held up his hands. "I'm going home," he said, ignoring me completely. "I'll drop off the kids with the girls and then I have to go back to school. Midterms are this week and I need to grade."

"Nooner is a funny word," I said offhandedly, chuckling.

"Goodbye, Dean," Sammy pressed, annoyed.

I followed him out to the Wagon and laughed again, seeing all four of the older Winchester kids rolling around in the back of the truck, fighting over the green crayon that Liberty was holding high above her head. "Lib, if you're gonna tease them, I'm gonna teach them how to kick your butt and even things out."

My daughter rolled her eyes at me, a little too much like Grace, and handed the crayon to her little brother. "I'd still win," she said, pride hinting at her little voice. "They're too little."

"Yeah," I agreed, leaning on the doorframe of the truck. "But they out number you, three to one. They could take you." Lib shook her head and rolled her eyes again. I kissed her forehead and helped her back into her booster seat. The twins both hugged me, wrapping their arms around my neck and I kissed them both as well. They backed away and my nephew Levi stepped towards me, his arms open wide, waiting for his hug. I ruffled his long hair and hugged him tightly. "Hey, buddy," I whispered. "I miss you too."

"Can I help you at the chop?" he asked, still unsure of the pronunciation.

I shook my head, pushing his bangs out of his face. "Maybe next time, kiddo. There's guys here installing electric stuff and it's kinda dangerous."

Levi nodded sadly and headed towards his own car seat. Sam buckled him in and I turned towards my kids. "I'll be home a bit later," I told them, glancing at Sam. "Uncle Sammy's gonna take you home. Help Momma with Faith when you get there."

Liberty nodded, folding her arms across her chest, pouting. I smiled to myself, seeing three more crayons on the carpet under the seat and bent to pick them up, handing them to Lib. "Green for Ev," I began, whispering, "but pink, orange, and blue for Meatloaf." Her green eyes lit up as she glanced at me, holding the crayons close to her chest secretly.

Sam closed the door and turned to me, shaking his head. With the smallest of grins tugging at his lips, he muttered, "They're going to catch on eventually that Lib is your favorite."

"Bite your tongue," I scoffed, taking a sip of my coffee, hiding my grin. "I love all of my children equally."

"I'll see you later," Sammy said, getting back into the truck. "Have you talked to Serra today?"

I leaned in the passenger side window and shook my head. "No," I answered, "I meant to call her to tell her we've only got the rear window to replace and then we can primer and paint." Shrugging, I continued, "But I'll let you be the hero if you want to be."

Sam smiled lightly and nodded. "I'll happily take that job," he said, starting the car.

Backing away from the window, I raised my hand at my kids, who were all furiously waving through the window at me. "I'll see you guys in about two hours!" I yelled, grinning. "Be good."

Sammy drove away and I realized that I was still holding Liberty's hot pink backpack. Shrugging, I turned back towards the shop and got back to work, dropping it behind the counter as I walked passed.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Sam

I unloaded all the kids and as we climbed the steps to Dean's house, Liberty looked around for something. "What's the matter?" I asked her.

"What happened to my backpack?" she asked, standing in the middle of the floor of the Wagon.

I thought about it for a minute and then sighed. "Oh, I gave it to your daddy," I said, sighing. "He'll probably bring it home with him." I stared at her momentarily, trying to gauge if she was upset.

After a few seconds, she shrugged, obviously not unhappy. "That's okay," she said. "Daddy will bring it home."

I smiled to myself, realizing that not all females were like my wife. Some were even easy to please.

I held open the screen for the kids and followed them into the living room. Grace was leaning against the counter, reading a magazine while Faith was in her swing, happily cooing to herself as she batted at the toys hanging in front of her. She looked up and grinned.

"Hey, guys!" she greeted, bending down as Everett ran to her. "How was your day?" Everett leaned towards her ear and whispered something I couldn't hear, but it made Grace laugh. She picked him up and nuzzled his face as he leaned his head on her shoulder. She glanced up at me and smiled. "Thanks for picking them up, Sammy. It sucks not having a car that can hold all of them at once."

I shrugged towards my sister in law, smiling. "It's not a big deal," I said. "Where is Serra?"

"She took Charlie home after lunch," Grace replied. "I haven't seen them since."

Nodding, I bent down to scoop Levi from the floor before he had a chance to start playing with his cousins. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go see Momma."

He grinned at me and wrapped his arms around my neck as I turned back towards the door. "We are still bar-be-cueing on Friday?"

"Last time I talked to Sere, she said yes. Then she proceeded to tell me that Dean isn't allowed to cook the meat because she's tired of eating, and I quote," Grace held up her fingers as air quotes, "'fossilized protein'." She sighed and put her hands down. "I don't know where she learned to be so melodramatic."

Shaking my head, I chuckled. "Then I guess she can cook the meat," I said, lifting my eyebrows. "I always thought Dean did a good job."

"She likes to have to kill it again," Grace replied, setting Everett down. He went running towards Faith in her swing and put his hand on her head. "She's my sister, but you picked her. You had your chance to run."

I laughed and moved towards the door. "Yeah, I know," I said, reaching for the handle. "I'm a sucker, I guess."

"See you later, Sammy," she chuckled, waving.

"Bye, Uncle Sammy!" Liberty's voice carried through the door as I closed it behind us.

I let Levi sit in the front seat as I drove the Wagon across the field between the houses, rather than driving it out and around the giant plot of land and chuckled as Levi belly laughed, bouncing along on the front seat.

Johnny, our black lab, greeted us in the driveway, furiously wagging his tail and jumping around, licking Levi's face. We climbed the front steps and I pushed the front door open. Serra was walking Charlotte around the living room, bouncing her, as the baby wailed pitifully.

Turning at the noise, Serendipity sighed in relief and walked towards me with purpose. "Here," she said, plopping Charlie into my arms. "Your turn."

"I just walked in the door," I said, shaking my head. "No, 'Hi, Sammy, how was your day?'"

Serra put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. "I haven't had a shower yet. It's four-thirty. I'm sweaty, engorged, chapped, and hungry," she said, venom in her voice. "But hi, Sammy, how was your day?"

I glanced down at Charlotte, red in the face and sobbing, obviously very unhappy. Looking back up into my wife's face, I sighed, automatically regretting even opening my mouth. The Browning sisters were such different people; it was hard to believe they shared genetic code. When I had walked into the Big House, Grace had been relaxed, reading a magazine, and leaning up against the counter. You would never have known that she was the mother of four children, let alone a newborn.

I stared at Serra and realized that she was having a harder time with domestication that my brother ever did. Serra never had to raise anyone. She had only ever been responsible for herself, and now that we had two kids of our own, she was struggling. It wasn't because she didn't love our kids, I knew that she did, but she just was such a different person than Grace. I had to stop comparing them.

I took a deep breath and smiled at her. "I'm sorry, Serra," I said quietly. "I know this has been hard for you." I bounced Charlotte and continued, "You should use your sister more often. She knows what she's doing and she's right across the field."

"Are you saying that I don't know what I'm doing?" Serra said, the tone of her voice getting dangerous. My wife might be tiny, but she was also probably one of the only women that I was afraid of. "Because, in case you don't remember, considering I have been on maternity leave for five weeks, I keep babies alive for a living, Sam."

Now I was backpedaling. "Look," I said, still bouncing Charlotte. "Why don't you come to school with me after we eat." I held up the bags of pulled pork and mac and cheese and waggled it in front of her. "I'll pick up the papers I thought I would grade tonight, but we'll go out to instead. Have a nice date, just the two of us."

Serra's eyes were narrowed and she looked suspicious of my intentions. "And what are we going to do with the banshee?" She gestured to Levi as well, "And the firstborn?"

I shrugged, "Grace will take them."

"Six? You're going to make my sister take all six kids?"

I was at a loss as to what to say. I sighed, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a bottle for Charlie. "Well, either way, I need to go back to school to get the papers that I should have graded already." I ran the hot water to warm up the bottle and continued to bounce my daughter. "So go take a shower while I'm gone. I'll take her and Levi with me."

Serra softened, hearing the desperation in my voice. "You don't have to take them," she said quietly. "I'm just tired. Frustrated." She looked up at me and lifted her arms away from her body. "Sweaty."

"Go, take a shower." Serra jogged up the steps and I sat down to feed Charlotte. She stared up at me with Serra's hazel eyes and I shook my head. "If you end up like your mother, I'm going to have a hard time forgiving you."

Charlie gurgled in reply, eyeing the bottle I held under the warm water.

Forty-five minutes later, I handed her off to Serra, who still had her hair up in a towel and was licking barbecue sauce off her fingers. "I'll be back in a half an hour," I said, trying to speak as calmly as I could. "I have to get those papers graded before Friday."

"Yeah, I know," Serra said quietly. She glanced at me and I could see the beginnings of bags under her eyes. "We'll be here."

I turned and ruffled Levi's hair as I walked towards the door, kissing my wife and daughter on the cheek before I grabbed the keys to my El Camino. "See you in a bit."

I closed the door and jogged to my car, intending on being as quick as I could to get back to my floundering wife.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Serra

"What are you doing right now?" I asked Grace as soon as she picked up her phone.

"I was making hot dogs for the kids. Why?"

I glanced down at Levi, who was building with his wooden blocks at my feet as I held Charlie. "You gotta take the kids for a bit."

"I don't 'gotta' do anything," Grace replied, too quickly.

I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes. "Please, Gracie? I gotta get out of here. I need a break."

"Where is Sam?"

Glancing out the window, watching him drive away in his El Camino, I sighed. "He went back to school to get some papers that he has to grade before Friday." I searched for the words to tell my sister that I really wanted to surprise him at school, but she needed to get there on her own. It almost had to be her idea.

"You know," Grace's voice came over the speaker again, annoyed. "If you're going to try and manipulate a half-angel, you should probably do a better job at hiding your thought process. If you wanna chase after your husband to fuck him in his classroom, just tell me."

"I wanna chase after my husband to fuck him in his classroom."

"Bring them over. You owe me."

I changed my clothes quickly, throwing on my black tank and a flannel, jeans and boots. I carried Charlie across the field with Levi and Johnny running ahead of me and basically tossed Grace the baby, shouting, "Thanks, sis! I'll be back in a bit!"

She shook her head slowly as I ran across the wheat field and jumped into the Wagon, starting her up with a roar. I threw her in gear and tore off down the highway, exhilarated that I was doing something unpredictable.

In less than ten minutes, I was approaching Sam's parking lot in the back half of the school and I parked next to his blue El Camino. I jogged across the blacktop, carrying only my keys, and walked down the hall, looking for my husband's classroom.

There were still students milling about and I had to sidestep them occasionally as I padded my way towards the auditorium. Sam had the door propped open and he was bent at the waist, searching his file cabinet for something as I stood in the doorway. I stared at his ass momentarily, smiling to myself, and finally, cleared my throat, attempting to get his attention.

"Sorry," he said, not looking up, "no office hours today." I raised my eyebrows and shook my head as I crossed my arms in front of me. My keys tinkled in my hands, their familiar sound forcing Sam to turn. "What?" he began, fading off. "What are you doing here?"

I shrugged, stepping out of the doorway and letting it close behind me. I reached towards the deadbolt and clicked it to the locked position and moved closer to my husband. "I miss you," I began, taking a deep breath and licking my lips. "I saw an opportunity and I took it."

His hands automatically found my shoulders and pulled me closer, smiling. "What did you do with the kids?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows.

"I duct taped them to the floor," I whispered, smiling slyly. "They should be good for an hour or so."

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "I don't know, after the tantrum you just threw…" he faded away and pursed his lips.

"Oh shut up," I said, reaching up to kiss him.

He grinned and wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly. We made out for a few minutes and when I reached for the buttons on his flannel, he backed away and chuckled. "Sere," he said, almost whispering, "we can't have sex in my classroom."

"Don't boss me around," I answered, reaching for the second button and kissing his neck.

He took a shaky breath, but pushed me back again gently. "Serra, seriously," he reiterated. "If someone comes by and sees us, I could get in big trouble. They'll think you're a coed."

"So turn off the lights, lock the door, and stop being such a pussy."

Sam lowered his jaw and pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth, annoyed. I grinned at him and forced my way towards the buttons on his flannel once again. He tried to fight back, but as soon as I made contact with his chest, he was putty in my hands. I reached towards the wall and flicked the light switch off and pushed him towards his desk.

We were wrapped around one another already, his hands in my hair and mine up the back of this shirt, running my fingertips across the muscles in his back. Our breathing was heavy, kissing passionately and I bit his bottom lip as we found the edge of the desk.

Sam stopped me, holding a palm to my shoulder. "Serra," he breathed, "we're not having sex on top of my student's mid-terms."

I rolled my eyes and shoved him down into his chair and grinned. "Fine," I said, unbuckling my belt, "your chair is leather. It'll wipe clean."

Sam fought it, but he grinned, showing the deep dimples on each side of his cheek. I knew I had him. I approached him again and he pulled me down, kissing me hard, pulling my hair slightly. His hands held me in place by my neck and face, trying his hardest to bring me as close as he could. Suddenly, he pulled my flannel off without breaking contact with me and dropped it to the floor and leaning back, he tugged the bottom of my black tank off, tossing it behind him somewhere.

I was still self-conscious about how my body had changed while carrying Charlie and I tried my best to stay focused on the fact that Sam still wanted me, very badly. I never said anything to him, but I got the feeling that he knew what I was worried about as he inspected me. Sam's fingers traced the top of my tattoo on my hip and then found the other, curving around my waist with his opposite hand. Leaning forward, he kissed my stomach and slowly, made his way up the center of my chest. The tingle that spread through my body made me sign in contentment and he smiled seductively as he looked up at my face, pressing his hands against my back, bringing me closer once again.

I straddled him after I dropped my jeans, trying my best not to knock us both over. We giggled a few times, realizing that the chair would swivel with each movement, so Sam rolled us against the desk as we found each other again. I gasped as Sam pushed into me and I gripped his shoulders tightly, pressing my nails into his skin. We developed a steady rhythm and I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering how it felt to be with Sam, before we were married with kids. It was the most liberated I had felt in months, and I wanted it to last all night.

We attacked each other with kisses and bites. I found his neck, beneath all that shaggy hair and breathed him in as I explored his ear with my tongue. He tightened his grip around my waist and I knew it was coming. I shut my eyes and smiled as we came together, trying not to cry out into the empty auditorium.

With a final squeak of the desk chair, the hydraulics of the adjustment seemed to finally give up and it lowered us slowly towards the floor. I laughed out loud, collapsing into Sam's bare chest and he grinned, shaking his head. "I liked this chair," he said sadly. "Do you think they'll buy me a new one?"

"What happened to your chair, Mr. Winchester?" I asked in a mockingly serious voice.

Sam pretended to think, "Well, my wife came to class and we had sex in it."

I laughed again and slapped his shoulder. I tried to stand, but the chair rolled as I made the move to stand, and I buckled once again, falling into his lap.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Dean

"Hey," I said, stepping through the door and turning towards my living room. There were kids everywhere. "I see you've given birth again." Lib, Levi, and Glory were piled into the big, comfy chair in the corner, watching some cartoon with robots, and Everett was hovering near Faith in her swing. Grace was bouncing Charlotte in the kitchen and sighed heavily when I walked in.

Grace laughed and shook her head. "It's no wonder I haven't gone back to work," she said over Charlie's cry. "I have enough kids for a classroom here."

I tossed my keys on the table as I headed towards the fridge and shook my head. "Did Serra finally run to Mexico?" I asked over my shoulder.

"It really wouldn't surprise me, but no," Grace replied, staring down at Charlie. "She followed Sam to school so that she could have sex with him in his classroom."

I closed my eyes, shaking the image from my head, but approved. "Glad Sammy hasn't lost his touch," I said, walking over to Charlie. "What gives with the banshee?"

"She's just like Serra," Grace shrugged. "Never quite content."

I walked towards my laptop again and sat down at the kitchen table, flipping the lip open and staring at the screen as it refreshed. The news website that I had been scanning that morning was still live, adding stories every few minutes and one caught my eye: the convenient store where I had gotten my afternoon coffee was there in the headlines, with a dead woman in the aisle, covered modestly by a sheet.

I glanced up at Grace and gestured to my computer. "Look at this," I said quietly, hearing that Charlie had begun to calm. "I was there this afternoon."

"What happened?" Grace asked, leaning towards my computer.

"Local women collapses while walking through gas station convenient store, where she was pronounced dead on the scene," I read, furrowing my eyebrows as I realized that my shoulder was pictured in the security camera photo of her as I held the door open for her as I almost knocked her down. "She was skin and bones," I sighed, turning to stare at my wife. "I had just talked to Stu. I pushed open the door while I was trying to shove my phone in my pocket and almost mowed her down."

"Weird," Grace commented, almost disinterested. She was concentrating on putting Charlie down in the pack and play we had across the room.

Something tingled in the back of my mind. It was that weird spider-sense that I used to have when Sammy and I had been hunting full-time. There was something that wasn't right about this and I knew it. "When did Serra leave?" I asked, turning towards Grace.

"About an hour ago," she replied, putting one hand on her hip. "What, are you leaving, too?"

I sighed, knowing that she was only kidding, but her words stung. "I've just got a weird feeling about this, Grace. Between your mummified crash victim and the dead, skin-and-bones woman in the quick stop? Something's up."

"You're reaching," she replied, crossing her arms in front of her.

I shook my head slowly. "It just doesn't feel right," I pressed.

Grace sighed slowly at me and shook her head. "I'm not going be to the woman that tells you no, but I am going to tell you that if you end up shot, bitten, or otherwise injured, not only will I be pissed, I will waste no time in telling all of your buddies at the shop that you tripped on your own shoelaces and fell down the stairs." She pressed her lips together. "I will think of the most pansy cover story I can to make you sound as lame as humanly possible."

"Noted," I said, stepping towards her. I kissed her, smiling as we made contact. I played our afternoon encounter through my head and she pulled away, raising her eyebrows up at me. I knew she had seen the scene that ran through my mind and I winked at her. "Nooner," I grinned.

She licked her lips and shook her head as she backed away from me. "Call Sammy and get to researching before she gets back," she said, annoyed. "Serra's been hounding me all day to go hunting and I keep arguing with her, telling her she can't go because she's got a newborn."

I turned towards Grace and shook my head. "I can leave it alone," I told her, my voice low and steady. "I told you I was done. I can stay done."

Grace pursed her lips and shook her head. "No, you can't," she whispered.

…

Sam

There was a knock on my classroom door as Serra was pulling her clothes back on. I had turned one of the overhead fluorescent lights on, just so that we could see what we were doing, but I hadn't anticipated anyone knocking on the door at eight thirty at night on a Friday. Serra glanced at me and raised her eyebrows, pulling her jeans on and buttoning them. She turned towards the door and unlocked the deadbolt and stepped away, pulling the door with her.

"Mr. Tokunaga," I greeted, "it's late. I didn't expect you here."

Tyler's eyes shifted from Serra to me and he grinned tiredly. "Hey, Mr. Winchester," he said suggestively, seeing Serra pull her flannel on and look for her other boot. "I lost my phone and I'm retracing my steps to see if I can find it."

"Oh, sorry," I said, shrugging. "Haven't seen or heard it."

Tyler ignored me and stumbled towards his seat in the upper left corner of my classroom. If possible, his face was more drawn than before, even since this afternoon. He walked with a limp and used the backs of the auditorium chairs to help him up the steps. He got to the top of the stairs and glanced around once, shaking his head and shrugging. As he made his way carefully down the steps, I turned to motion to Serra. She instantly understood and nodded her agreement: Tyler looked terrible.

"How do you feel?" I asked him, holding out my hand as he tripped on the last step.

Tyler shrugged, still smiling dreamily at Serra. "No worse than before," he answered, steadying himself on the desk. "I'm just really tired. Kinda dizzy."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, circling around him, staring at the exposed skin on his neck, looking for bite marks or wounds that were unexplainable. I came up empty. "Well, go home and get some sleep, will you? You have a paper to write."

Smiling stupidly, Tyler nodded and turned slowly towards Serra. "Is that your wife?" he asked as he turned towards her. As he did so, his legs collapsed under him and he hit the ground, hard.

"Holy shit," Serra said, bending down to feel his pulse. "This kid is weak, Sammy. He needs an ambulance."

I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 and waited semi-patiently as I explained to the dispatcher what had happened. Serra was feeling his neck and his arms, shaking her head periodically, murmuring to herself. Emergency dispatch put me on hold as she lifted Tyler's shirt to inspect his stomach and chest. She slowly turned to stare up at me and shook her head. "It's not a shifter," she whispered.

"What?" I asked, walking around to Tyler's other side and looking down where Serra had pulled up Tyler's sweatshirt. She pointed to the circular wounds on his stomach and I could feel my eyes widen slightly. "Oh, shit," I whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Dean

"Where are you now?" I asked into my phone, waiting for Sam to give me details about what was happening. "No, come home and we'll figure out what to do next."

Grace watched me and I knew I didn't even need to bother explaining what Sam had told me. It was one of the many perks of having a mind reading, half-angel as a wife. She sighed and shook her head. "It's not shifter," she said quietly. "Then what is it?"

I shrugged. "I don't know," I answered, "but Sammy always has a good idea about what we're up against."

"You're talking like you're going after it," she said, pouring a cup of coffee and putting it in the microwave. She glanced at the clock and waited patiently for her coffee to warm.

"Grace," I began, taking a deep breath and trying to figure out how to approach the topic. "If it's killing kids…" She rolled her eyes and shook her head, turning her body away from me. I could feel the irritation rolling off of her in waves and there was not much I would be able to do to change how she felt about the situation.

I stepped towards her, circling around the bar and coming to stand directly in her line of sight. Her face hadn't aged a bit since we met, and I could feel that familiar ache, worrying about how much The Mark was truly affecting her ability to age. We hadn't discussed it since right after having Glory and Everett, but I knew it was something that we would have to bring up again. Eventually.

Grace refused to meet my eyes, so I started calmly, trying to be non-committal about the whole endeavor. "Grace, I'm not saying that I'm packing a bag and I'm going off with Sam on some cross-country monster chase," I said softly. "I'm just saying that we need to know what it is to keep tabs on it and keep whatever _it_ is away from _us_." I gestured towards the living room and the pile of kids we had collected. "They are my priority. You," I stepped towards her and lowered my head to meet her eyes, "are my priority."

She still looked pissed and I had to be honest with myself; she had every right to be with everything I had put her through in the last few months. Her blue eyes hesitated, staring at the coffee mug in her hands instead of finding my gaze. Finally, she took a slow breath and looked up at me, her eyes deadly serious. "I will not be a widow with four children," she said quietly, ending the discussion. Setting down her coffee mug, Grace turned on a heel and strode back towards our bedroom without another word.

I sighed, leaning on the counter and rubbing my face with both of my hands. I had no idea what to do next, but I knew joining Grace in the bedroom was not one of my choices. I turned and stared at the heap of kids in my living room and padded out silently to lie on the couch, listening to each of their snores.

Lib and Levi joined me shortly after I got comfortable, each of them finding a place on my chest to fall back to sleep. I glanced at the clock on the wall and closed my eyes. I might as well catch a nap before Faith or Charlie woke up to be fed at ten.

…

I awoke to Grace putting dishes away in the kitchen and Lib and Levi drooling all over my shirt. Glancing up at the clock on the wall once again, I saw that it was past ten and that Sam and Serra were obviously not home yet. I chanced a look towards my wife, but she was facing away from me, reaching to put a pitcher on the top shelf of the cupboard. Her tank rose up her back, showing the swallow tattoos she had there and I smiled wistfully, remembering tracing them with my fingers after the first fight we had about hunting. I sighed and knew she was probably listening to my line of thought and did my best to keep my tone upbeat, but I knew we wouldn't be able to get past this unless we hashed it out.

Communication was never a Winchester strong suit.

I sat up slowly, trying not to wake the kids as I rolled them off my chest and stood, pushing them both towards the cushions. I turned to face my wife and took a steeling breath. She beat me to the punch.

"I'm not mad," Grace said quietly, not turning around. I kept my mouth closed, waiting for her to continue. After a few seconds, she did, turning around to face me, her blonde hair coming loose from the messy bun on top of her head. "Honestly, I feel a little left out."

That was the last thing I expected her to say, and my mouth fell open and I shook my head slowly. "What?"

Grace crossed her arms and shrugged. "Serra has always been a flight risk because she knows I'll always stay behind to take care of what needs to be taken care of. I expect it from her. Honestly, I would be surprised if she _didn't_ go after whatever is sucking those people dry," she explained softly. "But I've never been anchored in place. I've always been able to follow if necessary and clean up her mess. If something happens…if you guys end up needing me, I can't just drop everything and come after you. My reaction time is slowed because of them." I glanced towards the kids, beginning to understand. As she continued quietly, I approached her slowly, reaching out for her and pulling her towards my chest. She took a deep breath and shook her head into my shoulder. "I've never been against you or Serra or Sam hunting, but I can't do this by myself, Dean. Jody won't always be there…Em is a little unpredictable still and well, Cas and Lucia seem to have their own stuff going on." She sighed and her warm breath spread over my neck, sending predictable tingles down my spine. "I felt helpless after the last few months, and if something happened to you guys and I couldn't get to you…well, forgiving myself doesn't seem to be an option."

I wrapped my arms around her body and she curled into me, slowly unfolding her own arms and hanging them around my waist. A smile tugged at my lips as a thought occurred to me, "Is this how it feels to be open and honest all the time?"

She breathed out a silent chuckle and I could feel her shake her head. "Yeah, you jerk," she whispered.

I pulled away from her and smiled gently. "Grace, I would never leave you alone with all six kids. We would have a plan in place before anyone goes taking off after something."

"It's not always going to be that easy. Some day," she argued, "something will come up in the news that pulls you three away from me without a plan."

"If that's ever the case," I countered, "I wouldn't go." She blinked at me slowly, still disbelieving. "Grace, I'm serious. No case is ever more important than this family."

That seemed to satisfy her and as I bent to kiss her, the front door swung open and Serra came barreling though, sighing heavily. "It's not a shifter," she announced.

Grace didn't bother looking up at her sister, but instead turned back towards the counter, away from me, where clean dishes were stacked.

I touched the exposed skin on her lower back and let my touch linger. Grace's body language softened and she glanced at me from over her shoulder. I smiled lightly at her and winked, getting a shy grin from my wife as she turned back towards the clean dishes.

"Well," I began, turning my attention to my sister-in-law. "Tell me something I don't already know. What is it?"

Sam followed Serra through the front door and closed it behind him, lugging books and stacks of research with him towards the dining room table. "I've got some ideas, but I'm still not one hundred percent sure yet."

I walked towards the table and stared down at the tabbed pages he was flipping to in the books he brought with him and folded my arms, waiting as patiently as I could. When Sammy was in research mode, it usually took him a minute to get his thought process going, so over the years, I had learned to hold my tongue.

As the books filled the table, I could see a running theme: anything that could bleed a person dry after a few feedings was laid out of my dining room table. From first glance, I could see that Sam had brought books on wraiths, shape shifters, vetala, and something called a lik'ichiri. I made a face and shook my head. "Well?" I sighed, trying to make sense of it all. "What stands out the most?"

Sam glanced at me and shrugged. "Well, we know the victims can live for awhile after a feeding or two, which is why I brought home the books on vetala and wraiths, but I don't feel like those are the case. Vetala feed on a person's blood, but wouldn't make them look any different." Sammy looked at me and shrugged. "But Tyler looked almost deflated."

"Same with the chick at the liquor store and the crash victim," I added, agreeing.

"Right. So then, I thought, wraith," he added, pointing to the next book.

Grace's voice came from her place in the kitchen as she wiped her hands on the towel. "Wraiths only feed on a person's brain. I doubt that kid would have been able to have a conversation with you if a wraith had been feeding on him."

Sam nodded, agreeing. "Yeah, I remembered," he said, closing the book. "So we're on this last one," he said, pointing. "Fat-suckers."

"Pishtacos," Grace said, joining us at the table. She gestured towards the open pages, saying, "They're named for their location: Lik'ichiri, the mountain in Bolivia." We all turned to stare at my wife and she in turn, raised her eyebrows and tilted her head smugly. "I think everyone keeps forgetting that I kicked some major ass as a hunter."

Serra beamed proudly at Grace, pointing. "And she did all that from memory," she added.

Grace rolled her eyes and pulled the book closer to her. As she stared at it, I tried to remember the last time we ran into one. Without looking up at me, Grace answered my thought. "The fake doctor at that health clinic place where you met Sheriff Donna," she said, still staring at the book. "She and her brother were pishtacos."

"And I called them fish tacos," I said, grinning as I remembered. I glanced happily up at Sammy.

He only stared at me and my smile faltered as I followed Grace's line of sight. "Alright, are we sure that's what this is? No other possibilities?"

Sam shrugged. "Nothing else that I have been able to find has come close. If we're talking monster, it seems that this is the only one that we know of that fits the bill."

"Does this mean we get to go hunting?" Serra asked quietly, practically vibrating.

I sighed slowly, glancing at Grace. "You two can. We'll stay with the kids."

Sam's gaze found mine and he furrowed his eyebrows at me in that annoying way when he doubted me. I ignored him and stared down at the book with Grace, avoiding his eyes. Shifting slightly next to me, I could see Grace tilting her head slowly, the way she did when she was listening to other people's thoughts. I knew she was honing in on what was running through Sam's mind and I tried to fight the desire to get out there with my brother, the way we used to.

Sighing heavily, Serra shook her head, staring accusingly at Grace. "Oh, no," she said, backing away. "You are not putting me on the bench." Grace rolled her eyes and turned away from her sister and I stepped back as Serra barreled past me, heading towards the kitchen.

"I'm not putting you on the bench, Serra," Grace countered. "I just think you should spend a bit more time thinking about your newborn than a fat-sucking monster."

"I am thinking about her," Serra spat, stepping closer to Grace. "What if this thing comes closer to town? What if it goes after someone we know?"

Grace shook her head. "So let the boys go after it."

"That's just stupid."

"You're being an idiot," Grace said, turning away from Serra. "A selfish idiot that wants nothing more than to shoot her load on something that is barely worth our time."

"So what, Grace," Serra pressed, "now that I have kids, you're going to make me feel like shit for wanting to do something that I'm good at?"

"I'm going to make you feel like shit for abandoning your five-week-old to hunt something that would take the boys two days to take care of."

Sam sighed and took a step forward. "Stop, you two. Just," he shook his head and held out his hand. "Just stop."

They both turned to stare at him, waiting.

"If you want to go that badly, Serra, go. Just, take Dean with you so that I feel better about the whole thing. That way, one of us is still with Levi and Charlotte and you can scratch that itch."

"Whoa, whoa," I said, holding out my hands. "I didn't agree to go."

Grace tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, annoyed. She pursed her lips and I could almost hear the sarcastic comment lying in wait on the tip of her tongue.

I glanced at her and nodded, "Fine," I said before she had the chance to speak. "Let's go hunt the fish taco."

Serra grinned and nodded once, victorious.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Grace

As I sat to feed Faith, I watched my family slip back into battle mode, opening newspapers and online articles about the local people that had begun to drop dead. I watched Dean out of the corner of my eye as he glanced back at me multiple times. His thoughts drifted back to me each time, wondering if I was telling the truth about being tolerant of he and Serra going after the fat-sucker.

Everett slowly pushed into my shoulder, trying to get as close as possible to Faith as she ate. He couldn't resist touching her toes or brushing her hair out of her face and she would throw him annoyed looks occasionally, and finally, I turned to him, whispering, "Ev, back off. Let her eat."

"Let her eat!" Glory echoed, annoyed, from her place on the floor next to Liberty and Levi. I shook my head and rolled my eyes as the sound of the irritating bossy-sister voice she used.

"Alright, you guys. Everyone needs to get changed for bed, considering it's almost midnight," I announced, shaking my head. I really needed to get the kids on a more predictable schedule.

Lib had begun putting her crayons back in the box before I had opened my mouth, knowing what was coming, thanks to her blossoming psychic abilities.

Glory followed suit, grinning from ear to ear as she and Levi whispered to each other conspiratorially. I could hear them, trying to decide the best way to approach me about Levi spending the night, as he did so often. "Momma," she began, preparing her case, "Levi should stay."

Serra looked up, listening after hearing her son's name. She smiled lightly after she realized what was happening.

"Oh, he should?" I asked, glancing at my sister.

Glory nodded. "Yeah," she continued, taking a deep breath. Her eyes rolled up towards the ceiling, deciding her best tactic. "He can stay and Grama Jody can just watch all of us tomorrow with you!"

"Does Levi want to stay?"

Levi nodded, staring at me from his place next to Glory.

"It's alright with me," I said, shrugging. The kids glanced at each other and grinned and I held Faith over my shoulder to burp her. I could feel Liberty staring at me, pushing her subconscious into my own. I glanced up at my daughter and lifted my eyebrows, questioning her.

Her eyebrows knitted together, staring at me, then towards Dean's back, then shifted towards me once more. Through her thoughts, she asked, _"Why are you mad at Daddy and Auntie Lucky?"_

The question caught me off guard and I realized that not even my thoughts were safe around our five-year old. _"I'm not mad, Lib. I'm just frustrated."_

 _"_ _Isn't that the same thing?"_

Sighing heavily and putting Faith down on the fluffy blanket on the floor near Everett, I stood and walked towards Lib, bending down and holding out my hand. She took it and stood to follow me up to her room. We reached the top of the steps and I gestured to her room. Once we sat on the bed, I sighed again and fought to find the words to explain to Liberty how I was feeling without bringing up any of the details about the hunt and Dean's discretions during the stint of the demon spell that I didn't need to include.

"Lib," I started, "we're a really interesting family. A lot different than everyone else." She stared at me, waiting patiently for me to make my point. "You and me, baby, we're different. Faith is too. We can hear things that other people can't and predict stuff before it happens."

"What about Glory?" she asked, shifting her place on the mattress.

I shrugged. "I don't know, kiddo," I murmured. "By the time you were her age, you were already showing signs that you could hear me when I was thinking. Glory hasn't done that yet. We'll see."

Lib nodded and considered this. "She makes people happy," she countered. "She's always in a good mood."

I nodded. "Yeah, that does seem to be a talent of hers, but I don't know if it's an actual ability. It might just be her personality." I glanced at the photo of the kids before Faith was born and stared at Everett's stoic, chubby face. "And Everett is a lot like Daddy…he is affected by his anger more often than any of you are. That's where Faith comes in."

"She calms him down."

"Like I do for Daddy." I licked my lips and struggled to find the words. "Lib, we protect people from monsters and we try not to leave to do it, but sometimes, something comes along and we have to go after it. Daddy and Auntie Lucky are going after one tomorrow."

"And you're mad about it?" Liberty struggled to understand how I was feeling, even though I didn't really know myself.

Shaking my head, I replied, "No, baby. I'm not mad…I'm…" I faded away and pressed my lips together, finally knowing what I had to say. "I miss Daddy. He was gone a long time and we just got him back. I'm worried."

Liberty leaned over to me and rested her head on my arm. "It's okay, Momma," she said quietly. "Daddy is good at everything. He'll get it and come back the next day." Her green eyes flicked up towards my face and she grinned. "He told me that he wouldn't ever leave again."

I nodded slowly, remembering the conversation that I heard between Dean and Lib. "I know, baby. I believe him. I just don't know if this is our responsibility anymore."

I knew he was standing there before I looked up, having heard his thoughts shift downstairs as he decided to come and check on us. Lib sensed him too, and grinned when she saw him standing in the doorway. "You'll get it fast, right Daddy? Then you'll come home and be with us."

Dean stared at his hands as he decided on what to say. "You got it, Meatloaf. We won't be gone long enough to miss us."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Sam

I carried Charlotte home later that evening after saying goodnight to Levi. Serra walked silently next to me, in her own head, prepping herself for the hunt.

"You ready for tomorrow?" I asked, glancing down at my wife. "You rusty?"

Serra glanced at me and furrowed her eyebrows, scoffing at me. "Are you kidding? I'm always ready for a hunt."

I nodded. "Right," I said, climbing the steps to our back porch. "What's with Grace?"

Clicking her tongue, Serra shook her head and flicked on the lights in our kitchen as we walked in. "Grace is touchy about us going after something since it hasn't directly connected to us, yet. She thinks we should just stay out of it and keep our heads down."

"Don't you?" I asked, putting Charlotte down and watching her stretch, unfurling her tiny fists and whistling out her nose as she took a deep breath.

"Grace is just ultra-paranoid. Thinks we won't come out on top if we go looking for trouble."

I considered this as I watched Serra strip, just as she did each time she got home: dropping her jeans and kicking them towards the mudroom. She dropped her flannel across the back of the couch and I couldn't help smiling to myself, knowing that my wife hadn't changed a bit since we started dating. It wasn't anything sexual; she just hated to wear clothes when she was in the comfort of her own home.

She paused in front of the dishwasher, looking for a clean glass and she filled it with water and turned to face me in nothing but her bra and underwear. I watched her get comfortable against the granite, shifting her hips slightly and crossing her ankles, turning her thigh enough that I could see the Colt, roses, and lace tattoo that was etched into her leg and hip. It was easily my favorite.

"…that I'm not hunting with you or Grace," she was saying as I struggled to pay attention.

"What?" I asked, not really comprehending.

Serra's eyebrows arched, questioning. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, her voice full of attitude. "Am I distracting you?"

My face flushed and I smiled, looking at my feet. "It's a little hard to pay attention to what you're saying when you're standing like that."

"It's hard?" she whispered, a grin teasing her lips.

I shook my head at my wife, laughing. "You are about as mature as a fifteen-year-old boy," I said, walking forward to wrap my arms around her bare shoulders.

"Doesn't seem to be a problem," Serra said, reaching forward to put her hands in my back pockets. She tugged my hips towards hers and I shook my head as she pushed herself up on her tiptoes to reach my face. Kissing me gently at first, she giggled as I pressed her into the counter. Serra bit my bottom lip, tugging it enough to get my attention, and then wrapped her legs around my waist. I could feel myself losing control and I picked her up and carried her towards the couch on the other side of the living room.

Serra made it nearly impossible to concentrate on unbuttoning my flannel as she attacked my neck and ears, sucking on my earlobe and biting down occasionally. Eventually, I gave up and pushed her down on the couch and dropped my jeans and pulling my shirts off, over my head. She giggled again and the look in her eyes told me that she wanted me in control.

Grabbing her by the wrists, I held them in place above her head and felt every part of her, caressing her skin and kissing her roughly as I tugged her underwear off with the other hand. I pulled her body closer to mine and we found a rhythm quickly, succumbing to the pleasure of each other's touch.

I sank into the cushions next to my wife and sighed contentedly, wrapping my arms around her. I heard the heater kick on as I gave in to sleep, both of us still completely nude.

…

The quiet knock on the front door jolted me awake and I struggled to focus on what was happening. Serra was passed out next to me, still breathing deeply face down on our couch. I glanced at the clock when I realized that it was still dark outside and saw that it was only five-thirty in the morning.

The fog that held my brain hostage didn't allow me to process fast enough that Dean was using his key to get into our house and I lay, paralyzed, completely nude, as I watched my brother open the front door. He entered silently, closing the door gently, obviously not wanting to wake Charlotte. He turned, facing the couch and I tried to say something, but semi-consciousness strangled my voice.

Pressing his lips together he shook his head slowly, almost disappointed. "Dude. You have a bedroom," he said quietly, turning towards the kitchen and walking across the floor without another glance. He opened our fridge, looking for something to eat as I pulled myself away from Serra and grabbed my jeans and shirt. I yanked on my pants and pulled a blanket down, across Serra's back, covering most of her body.

I glanced up at my brother, who was pouring a cup of orange juice and nodded towards my wife. "Are you here to pick her up for the hunt?"

Dean raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Yeah, but if she would rather lay naked on the couch all day instead, I wouldn't fight her on it."

I made a face at him and shook my head. "Did you tell us you were coming this early?"

"It's what we always do for a hunt," he replied, leaning against the same counter that Serra and I had pressed up against the night before. "You two are out of practice." Dean stared at me and made a face. "Dude, your hair…your kid's hair…five minutes with a set of clippers."

"Stay away from Levi's hair," I muttered, running my hands through mine, trying to calm it down. I glanced down at Serra and touched her shoulder gently. "Sere," I said, bending down. "Dean's here." Her hazel eyes fluttered slightly and she buried her face in the pillows, trying to ignore me. "Serra," I repeated. "The fat-sucker? Dean's here to go after it."

Serra grumbled as she turned to face away from me as Dean approached the back of the couch. "Look," he sighed, leaning on the back of the couch, staring down at my barely-covered-wife, "I don't want to go at all, so if you don't get your tiny little ass in gear, I'm going home and back to bed."

"Goddammit, Dean," she muttered into the cushion, sighing. Lifting her head, she shot him a look full of death and dismemberment and narrowed her eyes. "You couldn't have waited until the sun came up?"

"I like seeing how pissy you get when it's still dark."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Serra pulled herself from the couch and stared up at me, holding out her hand. I reached for her and helped her up, keeping the blanket wrapped around her body. Pressing his lips together, Dean looked disappointed.

"Grace will hear you, you know," I murmured to him.

"Won't hear anything she hasn't heard before," Dean replied, grinning. "I have a firm appreciation for the Browning sisters."

"Ugh," Serra said, making her way towards the steps, dragging the blanket with her. "I'm going to shower. Try and keep the thoughts of infidelity to a minimum today, huh?"

I ignored my wife's comments as she reached the top of the steps and turned to face my brother, saying, "She doesn't mean that. She trusts you."

"No she doesn't," Dean replied, sighing and running his fingers through his hair. He chanced a glance at me and immediately broke eye contact again, wandering back into the kitchen. "I guess I just should consider myself lucky that she didn't kill me the first night I came back."

I watched Dean pace around the kitchen and pulled my shirt on as he circled back towards me. He never made eye contact with me again and for the slightest moment, I was envious of Grace's ability to read my brother's mind. "What are you so worried about? Grace knows you wouldn't leave her and that what you did...it was all from the demon spell. Serra is a bitch," I knew she would light me up for that later, but I knew she knew it was true. "Why does her opinion matter?"

"Because it matters to Grace," Dean replied, leaning his hands on the counter and staring at his hands. He sighed heavily and finally looked up at me. "Every time I feel like I'm making headway with her, Serra will say something that creates a little glimmer of doubt in Grace's mind." He smiled ironically and stared at his hands again. "It's two steps forward and three steps back."

"But you guys will be okay, right?"

Dean bit his bottom lip and shook his head slowly. "I don't know, Sam. I really fucked this up."

He glanced up at the second floor as we both heard the water in the shower shut off, but I found myself shaking my head in denial. "Grace has forgiven you. She said she had. You two," I floundered for the words, "you two are meant to be! You're cosmic…two halves of the same whole."

Dean stared up at me sadly, "That might be true, Sammy, but she's still half human. And a woman."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Serra

I threw myself into the Impala and sat lower in my seat, curling around myself to get comfortable. Dean loaded the duffle I packed into the trunk, along with our stores of weapons and ammo. He sat next to me, started up the engine, and without a word, threw it in to gear and we took off down the road.

We drove in silence for about ten minutes before he decided that filling the void between us would be better, so he flicked the radio on and tried to distract himself with the Metallica song that came through the speakers. I glanced, sidelong at my brother-in-law, and tried my best not to come across the seat at him and punch him in the stupid face.

Dean's intuition hadn't failed him often, so when he glanced at me and took a double take at my expression, he lifted his eyebrows and shut off the radio with a click.

"Alright," he growled, his voice low and rough. "Let's get it all out now, before the shit hits the fan." He pulled off the side of the road, putting the Impala in park and pulling the key. He turned physically to face me, bringing his knee up onto the seat and tilted his head patiently.

I felt the back of my teeth with my tongue, buying time. He stared at me relentlessly with those green eyes, penetrating through to my soul and I took a deep breath, understanding why Grace always went on and on about the looks he would give her with those eyes. It was refreshing though, not having a psychic push her way into my brain to rush my thought process. Dean waited, breathing slowly, trying his best to stay calm.

"Look," I started, "I know, we've been round and round about this, but if we're going to be on a hunt together, I need to know I can trust you."

Dean glanced out the windshield of the Impala, avoiding my gaze. "Serra," he started, not looking at me. "I know you're you: the watch dog little sister that would kill anyone necessary to protect Grace." He turned his gaze back towards me and continued. "Throw in the whole 'Warrior of Heaven' thing and you are pretty much unstoppable."

"Warrior of _Fucking_ Heaven," I corrected.

He simply eyed me and continued, "I get it, but you have got to let me and Grace figure out me and Grace."

"She's too forgiving."

"It's one of her better attributes, being married to me."

I clicked my tongue and stared out the window, hesitant to say what was really on my mind. For once, I was able to hold my tongue without my sister answering something that hadn't come out of my mouth yet. Dean watched me out of the corner of his eye and waited for me to finish my thought process. "I didn't expect you to ever come back," I said quietly. "Grace adjusted quickly, taking over the shop and taking care of the kids. She didn't need you."

"I know," Dean answered, almost silently.

"Then you come back and suddenly she's a puddle again, completely dependent on you and gives in to whatever you want." I stared at him, challenging him to argue. He didn't. "She is blinded by you, and I don't understand why."

Dean readjusted the position in his seat and smiled lightly, chuckling to himself. I stared at him incredulously. He held up his hands submissively and took a deep breath, leaning forward. "You just said, verbatim, what goes through my mind on a pretty constant basis, Serra. I don't understand any more than you do why she trusts me so blindly, but the only thing that I can come up with is that she knows I'm telling the truth. She knows I would lie down and die if it meant her living one more day."

I stared at Dean and took a deep breath, knowing that he was saying things he would never normally say aloud. Dean was, if possible, more private about his feelings than Sammy was, but to my sister, no one was a mystery. As I stared at my brother-in-law, the father of my nieces and nephew, I took another deep breath, resigning to the fact that he was safe. I knew I could trust him.

…

We drove slowly through a quaint neighborhood in Kingsville, Missouri, where the girl who had died in the gas station convenient store had listed as her last known address. The houses were average, blue-collar houses, spaced nicely, with driveways leading directly to front doors and Christmas decorations scattered through the snow.

"Seven-oh-one, Vine Street," I said quietly, reading the address from the police report that Sam had gotten a hold of.

Dean slowed almost to a stop in front a tiny house and glanced at me, eyebrows raised. "Tiny," he commented.

I rolled my eyes. "Not everyone can live on Winchester Ranch," I spat, staring at the house. "It's cute."

Shrugging, Dean made a wide turn at the end of the block and parked on the opposite side of the street. We got out, straitening our coats and professional looking suits and walked across the recently plowed road. He let me take the lead as we climbed the front porch steps and I lifted my hand to knock on the door.

We waited for a few seconds in silence, then I towards him and shrugged. "Maybe she was the only one that lived here?"

Dean glanced down at the file that he held in his had. "Says there was a boyfriend, though his name isn't listed," he answered. "Lived here some of the time."

I turned back to the door and knocked once more. As I waited, I turned to take in the rest of the block. It was a quiet neighborhood, one that resembled where Grace and I had lived before the boys had come in and taken us by storm. There was no one out, though, because of the snow on the ground, but it wasn't uninviting. Impatiently, I turned back towards Dean. "There's no one here."

Dean shrugged, non-committal. "So let's check it out," he said, stepping in front of me. He opened his black FBI-issued trench coat and brought out the lock-pick set that he used so frequently in his prime hunting days. I waited, glancing behind us occasionally, and followed him inside once the door opened.

We stood in the living room of the tiny house and I could hear a faint beep coming from the back of the house. "You hear that?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Yeah," Dean answered, shaking his head. "Alarm system." He wasted no time, walking to the other end of the living room, reaching for the alarm system's keypad and popping off the cover. Quickly, he sliced through the green and blue wires, holding his breath until he was sure that the alarm had disarmed.

"Alarm system?" I asked, shaking my head. "This is Hicksville, Missouri! It's like no one trusts anyone anymore." I approached, waiting as I held my breath. Dean relaxed slowly, exhaling and glancing at me and shaking his head with a smile on his face. I grinned at him and began my walk through the tiny home.

It was sparsely decorated. There was a china cabinet off to the side of the living room, filled with antique dishes and doilies on the furniture. A sewing machine was off the end of the hall, decorated with tiny Christmas trees for the holidays. The kitchen was clean, the yellow tile on the countertop was old, but well cared for, and the linoleum had definitely seen better days.

"This is a college kid's house?" I asked, staring at Dean. "This looks more like her grandmother's place." Dean was silently nodding his agreement, holding his gun. He was on high alert, but there was nothing immediately to suggest that we were in any danger. I moved closer to him, ready to draw my own silver on black, specialty engraved forty-five, but hesitated. "You smell that?"

Dean made a face, coming to the same conclusion as I did. Human decomposition.

He led the way down the hall, gun drawn and moving slowly, trying not to make the hardwood floor creak as he crept. Turning back at me, he gestured towards the second door and I nodded, pulling my gun and splitting off from him. He padded his way into a bedroom at the far end as I made my way into the side bedroom and inspected the room quickly. There was no one here, but it was obviously the victim's bedroom, with the University of Kansas' colors draped across the walls. There was a KU banner, complete with a Jayhawk emblazoned across it, hanging from the ceiling over her bed and a framed picture of her and, I assumed, her boyfriend, on the nightstand. I bent down to inspect it, realizing that his face was familiar, but hearing Dean's footsteps jumping back in surprise distracted me.

I ran back out of the room and almost knocked him over in an attempt to make sure he was safe, but he stood outside the bathroom, holding his hand to his face. "Found Grandma," he muttered, holding the door open.

There, on the floor near the bathtub, was a woman who had been sucked dry. Her features were sunken, almost mummified, and I had to take a step back to try and physically escape the smell. "Oh, Jesus," I mumbled. "How long do you think she's been here?"

Dean shrugged. "At least as long as the girl has been dead," he replied, backing his way out of the bathroom. He pulled an alcohol-based wet wipe out of the package from his pocket and wiped down the door where he had made contact. "You touch anything?" he asked, holding out the wipe.

I shook my head, making a face. "No," I replied. "But the girl's bedroom is down the way. She lived here, at least part time. According to the decorations on her wall, she went to Sammy's school."

Dean stared at me momentarily, processing the information. "Did you see any evidence of her boyfriend at all?"

"There's a picture on the nightstand. He looks familiar."

Following me back into her room, we both took the time to inspect her belongings, trying to touch as little as possible. There was very little in the room just like the rest of the house, which suggested that she spent most of her time somewhere else.

After about twenty minutes, Dean stood to his full height and put his gun into the holster under his arm. He stretched and rolled his neck, popping it twice before he turned to look at me. "Okay," he began, "we know that this is probably where the fat-sucker started. Grandma was probably patient zero."

"Considering there haven't been any deaths in the surrounding area before that."

"That we know of," Dean added, shrugging. "There's Grandma, the gas station girl, and Sammy's student."

"Don't forget the truck driver that hit Grace," I added, putting my hands on my hips. "Maybe he was first."

Dean made a face and tilted his head. "Oh, right. Shit, I'm out of practice." Dean walked towards the dining room table and laid out the file that he held, pointing to an address listed on the paperwork. "Isn't that address close by?"

I read the address to myself and thought momentarily. "Two fifty-six, East Seventh is down the block," I said quietly, staring up at Dean. "Is that the dually's address?"

Dean nodded silently. "This thing didn't travel far," he said, glancing up at the alarm keypad on the back wall. "Alright, let me fix the alarm again and we'll go down the street and introduce ourselves."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Dean

Serra and I had stopped at a gas station outside of town to change into our FBI wardrobe to make some investigative stops, and as much as I hated to admit it, it felt good to be back in the saddle. The address that the police had listed for the gas station girl proved to be her grandmother's house and all we found there was Grandma's body, dried and mummified, leaving nothing but her skin and bones behind.

We were able to walk to the second address listed in the files that Sammy had dug up and it didn't take long for us to figure out that this tiny neighborhood is where the fat-sucker had started his buffet, considering how close the victims lived to each other.

Following Serra up the brick walk towards the dually owner's house, I glanced around, feeling like we were being watched. The hair on the back of my neck tingled and I glanced behind me, waiting for movement. Serra hadn't slowed down and I trusted her instincts, so I continued up the porch steps and waited for her to knock. Lifting her hand, she hesitated and glanced at me, her hazel eyes catching the light just right that they looked golden.

I asked without words, making a face at her distress. She had heard something. Very slowly, I pulled my gun from the holster under my arm and waited as she did the same. My senses came alive, listening hard for movement. Serra glanced back at me and gestured to the edge of the porch. Nodding, I turned and stepped back down the stairs, edging my way around the house while she went the opposite direction.

There was a set of basement windows towards the back of the house, with grass and bushes that had been pressed down around it. To me, it looked like someone was using the window as an entrance and exit to the basement. I bent down, trying to look through the cloudy glass, but there was nothing that I could see from my vantage point and the window was locked. I glanced up as Serra came around the other side of the house and I pointed to the area of broken down vegetation with my gun.

She nodded, understanding, and we both made our way back to the front porch, attempting to continue our rouse of being legit. Serra put her gun back in her holster unwillingly, but I kept mine drawn, behind my back, waiting patiently. She knocked three times and we waited, holding our breath, for an answer.

Not even bothering to knock again, Serra backed away from the door, taking my gun without hesitating as I handed it to her, and I brought out my lock-pick set once more. I let us into the house without any trouble and she handed my gun back, bringing out one of her own.

The house was dark. All of the blinds were closed and the lights were off, obviously closing up shop to go to work or to be gone for a while. In the back of the house, once again, was the telltale beep of an alarm system, waiting to be disarmed upon entry. I sighed, shaking my head as I put it together. I popped the faceplate off of the keypad, and glancing back at Serra disappointedly, I cut the green and blue wires once more.

"Alarm system company rep," I muttered quietly, making the connection that the police had yet to make. "They're both from the same company."

Serra nodded, agreeing. "And now whoever it is knows that we're on to them."

"Cuts our timeline down," I replied, glancing around the house. "We better catch up quick or this thing is gonna be in the wind."

Biting her lower lip, lost in thought, Serra looked remarkably like Grace for the slightest moment, and shaking it off, I turned away from her to clear the house. We followed the same routine as we had in the first house, splitting at the end of the hall to check the bathrooms and bedrooms separately. This time, Serra found the other victim, sprawled out in bed, propped up on a pillow with cold soup in a bowl and blankets all around.

"They think they're just sick," Serra commented as we wiped our prints off of the hall door and the alarm system keypad. "Wouldn't you think that suddenly losing forty or fifty pounds, you'd be a little suspicious?"

I shrugged at her as I twisted the green wires back together in the alarm system keypad. "Well, sometimes living in the sticks slows you down. It's not like a fat-sucker is something that they know about." I closed the keypad and used the wipe to press 'arm' as we headed back towards the front door, leaving everything just as we found it. "Web MD isn't going to diagnose your rapid weight loss as 'supernatural monster pishtaco'." I chuckled, laughing at my own joke as Serra furrowed her eyebrows.

"So we know that this neighborhood is where it started, but how did it connect that kid in Sammy's class with the girl from the gas station?"

I shook my head as I climbed back into the Impala. "I don't know," I answered, "but I'll bet a greasy bacon burger and a slice of pie will help us figure it out."

…

Thankful that she had remembered to lock the basement window and door, Beatriz moved closer towards the middle of the large room where she and her husband Gerardo had been living. She stared through the window nervously, hoping that it would be the last time that she would see the man and woman that had inspected the house. Beatriz knew they were not federal agents, as they pretended to be. They had been too aware, too knowing of their surroundings. The tiny twig that she had stepped on that snapped should not have been enough noise to alert either one of them of her presence, but she had just escaped through the window of the basement before the male had found the evidence of pressed down grass and other fauna, proving that she and Gerardo occupied the basement together.

Taking a deep breath, Beatriz sighed, content that she had heard the black Chevy start up and drive down the street, taking their investigation elsewhere. She knew that she would be able to control the size of her meals and live among the people, but she was doubtful that her adoring husband would be able to do the same. He made it hard for them to survive in any one place for too long.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Serra

Dean sipped his black coffee and glanced around the diner every so often, doing perimeter checks, I was sure of it. We had each ordered a burger and fries, and while we waited for our food, I pretended to read the case files that Sammy had brought home. After a few minutes of silence, Dean took a breath and looked as though he wanted to say something. I glanced up, annoyed, and stared at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked, taking another sip of coffee and leaning back in his side of the booth.

I lifted my eyebrows. "I think maybe Grace has more patience with you than I do," I commented, considering him. "You're kind of annoying."

Dean's face went slack, shooting daggers at me from his side of the table. Without missing a beat, he replied, "She has the patience of a saint, considering she grew up with you."

Clicking my tongue, I looked back down at the file and tried to ignore him. Eventually, he found his voice and took a breath, attempting his thought again. "Why did you agree to go hunting with me?" he asked, his voice low. "I know I wasn't your first choice."

I stared up at him and took a breath. "My first choice will always be Grace. We're great together," I took a sip of my coffee. "She and I work basically as one person and it's a bond that not even you and Sammy will ever understand."

"That's not answering my question."

I twirled the spoon that rested on the plate next to my coffee cup and sighed. "I agreed to go hunting with you because I would kill Sam on a hunting trip and I think he knows it. He and I are great as husband and wife, but as hunting partners? No. He would drive me fucking crazy."

"And I don't drive you fucking crazy?" Dean leaned forward, smiling lightly.

Pursing my lips, I shrugged. "You drive me fucking crazy," I agreed, "but in a different way. I know that your skill level and my skill level are definitely comparable, so I know if it came down to it, I would trust you in a fire fight."

"But not Sammy."

Making a face, I shook my head. "Sammy is too…"

"Suffocating? Whiny? Tall?"

I laughed, shaking off Dean's descriptors. "Yes," I nodded, "and no. We just don't function well as a hunt team."

"And you and I do?"

I shrugged, leaning back in the cushion. "Better than Sammy and I do." I paused, taking a breath and smiling. "But not as well as me and Grace do."

Dean leaned back, smiling to himself. "Your secret's safe with me," he said quietly.

Our food came shortly thereafter and Dean ate contentedly until his phone rang, about halfway through the meal. He pulled it out of his jacket and stared at the screen, smiling a bit when he read Grace's name.

"Hiya, honey," he smiled into the phone. "How's tricks?" Listening momentarily, he glanced up at me and motioned with his hand. I shook my head, not understanding what he wanted. "The case file," he whispered and I nodded, reaching down next to me and handing him the folder. He took it and flipped it open above the food, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder, trying to catch everything that Grace was saying.

"Put her on speaker," I said, staring at him.

He shook me off and I knew why. Grace was telling Dean connections that she had made from her end, simply by telepathically listening to what we had been talking about and looking over her own notes from the case files that Sammy had brought home. He didn't want her talking about a murder investigation on speakerphone using words like 'fat-sucker' and 'pishtaco' in public.

Dean glanced up at me and furrowed his eyebrows. "What?" I asked, taking a drink of my diet Coke.

He held the phone away from his face slightly and said, "That kid the gas station girl was dating is Tyler Tokunaga's brother."

I closed my eyes, realizing why he looked familiar. "There's the connection," I answered, shaking my head. "Where do the brothers live?"

"Have you or Sammy figured out where the Tokunaga brothers live?" Dean repeated, taking another bite of French fry. Grace answered and Dean flicked his eyes to mine. "On campus?" he asked, staring at me. "That's an hour and a half away from here. It seems like all of the rest of the victims are concentrated here in the neighborhood. You really think they made the leap?" Dean listened momentarily and shrugged. "Alright," he said, nodding. "We'll check it out." He took another bite and tilted his head. "How are the kids?"

I lifted my hamburger and took a bite as Dean wrapped up his phone call with my sister. As he hung up, I could hear Grace in my head, _"Will you stop being such a bitch to him, please?"_

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Dude, that was like four hours ago."

Dean shifted his gaze towards me and raised his eyebrows, questioning. I ignored him as Grace continued. _"I don't care how long ago it was,"_ she spat. _"He gets it. You're pissed. Enough."_

"Fine," I muttered, taking another bite of my food. "But let me tell you this, sister. Next time there's a hunt; it's you and me. None of this bitchy telepathic crap. If you're going to yell at me, at least do it to my face."

I waited momentarily for her to reply, but she was silent, signaling the end of our conversation. I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes, taking a drink of my diet Coke. I could feel Dean's stare as I tried to ignore him, so finally, I shook my head and said, "She's pissed because I wouldn't lay off of you about the adultery."

Pursing his lips, Dean tilted his head. "That was like, four hours ago."

"I know. Don't make me go through it again."

Chuckling, Dean took a bite and spoke, trying to keep his burger in his mouth. "You know, you two are a pool of Jell-o away from making us a lot of money."

"If you ever bring up Jell-o around me again, I will personally ensure that you're firing blanks."

Dean grinned through his bite and chased it with a swig of his soda. I shook my head and finished my meal, waiting by the door as Dean paid for our meal. He followed me out a few minutes later, getting gas before we left, headed for the University of Kansas.

…

"I told you they would not stay long," Gerardo whispered as we watched the black Chevy pull out of the parking lot of the gas station across the street from the diner, where we followed them. "They were here to dig around, but we hid our trail well."

Beatriz glanced lovingly towards her husband, but shook her head sadly. "They knew I was there, at the house."

"How?" he asked, turning to face her accusingly.

She hung her head shamefully. "The female heard me step on a branch," she explained. "They know something was there, near the window." Beatriz turned to stare into Gerardo's wide, brown eyes. "They didn't see me, mi amor," she whispered, placing her hands on his chest. "I swear to you. We are safe."

Gerardo nodded once, eyeing the black Chevy as it sped away from them. "We are only safe as long as I keep my hunger under control. That was too close."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Sam

"What are you guys doing here?" I whispered harshly, meeting Dean and Serra in the hall, later that afternoon. "This is where I work. You can't conduct an investigation here. Someone will recognize you, Serra."

She rolled her eyes. "No they won't. No college kid is paying that close of attention to a picture of us on your desk."

"Serendipity," I started, lowering my voice and glancing down the hallway. "Two students in the last week have asked what your name is when pointing to that photo."

Serra sighed heavily and glanced at Dean. "Fine," she said, shaking her head. "Take this one, but I'm still going to dig around over in the dorms. I wanna find out where the other Tokunaga brother lives."

I glanced at Dean to confirm what I had just heard. "The other Tokunaga? There is another one being attacked by the pishtaco?"

Dean shrugged at me in a non-committal way. "Maybe," he said, "but we're more concerned about the fact that the other Tokunaga brother was banging the gas station chick. All of our vics are connected either by location or relationship so far. If we get ahead of the Kevin Bacon game, maybe we'll find our fish taco."

I closed my eyes, letting my brother's extensive knowledge of pop culture roll off of me. I didn't even bother to correct his pronunciation of the pishtaco. "Okay fine, but you are not using a rock name this time. Go legit enough not to be flagged by the kids around here."

Dean rolled his eyes and flashed his fake FBI badge at me. "You're so dramatic," he said, pointing to the name quietly. "Rick Snyder is perfectly boring and legit."

"You have an hour before I kick you off campus," I whispered, leaning towards Dean. "Seriously. If you're not off the university's property in an hour, I will let her kick your ass." I gestured to Serra and raised my eyebrows.

Dean nodded and rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he said, stuffing his badge back into his pocket. "You're such a baby."

…

"Hi," Dean greeted as soon as the dorm's door creaked open, revealing a frail-looking kid around nineteen. "Agent Snyder. I'm looking for Tyler Tokunaga's brother?"

The kid stared up at Dean's badge and then examined his face more closely. "That's an old ID photo," he commented, pulling the door open enough for Dean to step through.

Making a face and glancing at his picture laminated on the badge, Dean felt his face momentarily, and then shook it off, shoving the badge back into his suit jacket. "Is Mr. Tokunaga at home?"

The kid shrugged, his thin, ashy blonde hair falling into his face. "I just got back a few minutes ago. His door is closed." The kid coughed and leaned over slightly, holding his stomach. "I guess he might be back there."

Dean stared at the kid and did the initial once-over that he performed so often in his line of work. "You okay, kid?" he asked, his voice gruff. "You don't look so hot."

He grimaced slightly and collapsed onto the futon behind him, almost out of breath. "Yeah," he replied, taking a deep breath. "I have acute lymphocytic leukemia. I finished up my last stage of chemo a couple of days ago and it really takes it out of you."

Dean took a step back as a sad smile crept across his face. "You look great, kiddo," he said quietly. Reaching out to shake the kid's hand, he introduced himself properly. "I'm Rick," he said shaking the teen's hand gently, afraid he might break him. "What's yours?"

"I'm Aaron Bellevue," the kid responded, taking Dean's out stretched hand. He smiled gently. "And you're lying. I look like shit."

Dean allowed a small smile and shrugged. "Hey," he said quietly, "chemo is chemo. That's some tough shit to get through."

Aaron smiled lightly. "Yeah, but I've been dealing with it all my life. I'm hoping this is the last of it." He turned towards the closed bedroom door. "Feel free to go check out Taro's room."

Nodding slowly, Dean made his way towards the closed bedroom door and knocked once. "Hey, Taro?" he asked, waiting patiently for the kid to answer. "Just wanted to ask a few questions about your brother?" Glancing back at Aaron, still sitting on the futon, Dean tried the door handle and discovered that it was unlocked. He turned the knob, still knocking slightly on the door as he entered. "Taro?" he repeated, stepping into the dimly lit room.

There were books littered across the floor with maps hanging from the mini blinds. Dean stepped over the pile of laundry to examine the map of the surrounding area, littered with post-its and messy blue marker scrawled across the cities. Upon closer examination, Dean noticed that two of the large Xs on the map showed the gas station where his girlfriend had died and another on top of the houses he and Serra had just toured. Taro was conducting his own investigation of the attacks.

Dean turned his attention to the books spread out on the floor with tabs marking different pages about creatures and lore that cannibalized people from local villages and drained their bodies of fluids. The research was just as extensive and in-depth as if Sammy had done the legwork himself. Dean shook his head, awestruck. He was impressed.

Doing a full circle in the room he caught a glimpse of a book on South American tribes and creature legends. In bright red ink, there was a post-it marking the description of a pishtaco which said, 'AIKO?' Dean pursed his lips and nodded. Taro had definitely done his homework.

Stepping over the books and laundry once more, Dean rejoined Aaron in the living room. "He's not in there," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. "Here's my number," Dean continued, smiling at Aaron. "When he comes home, will you have him give me a call?"

Aaron took the card and grimaced. "Sure," he said weakly. "Will do."

Hesitating at the door, Dean turned back to see Aaron lean forward to put Rick Snyder's business card on the coffee table, writing a note on the back with the pen he held. He took a deep breath, knowing that if Grace had about three minutes with the kid, she could have him healed in no time. Gently, he closed the door behind him and headed back towards Sam and Serra.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Dean

"You should see this kid's room, Sammy," I was saying over a mouthful of cupcake. "Research everywhere. Thorough. Makes you look ill-prepared."

Sam shot me a look and rolled his eyes. "Okay, so," he said, playing for time. "He figured out it's a pishtaco, too. Doesn't get us any closer to finding it."

I shrugged, glancing at Serra. "Well, we need to keep moving if we're going to beat it to its next victim. If the fish taco is attacking the Tokunagas, then we're going to need to figure out who is connected to them and who is most-likely its next meal."

"What about the roommate?" Serra asked, glancing down at the list of people we had managed to come up with in Sammy's classroom. "Aaron? He's directly connected to the brothers."

I was shaking my head, "Not a chance," I explained, sighing heavily. "Kid's already on death's door as it is. Acute lymph…something. Really skinny. Sickly." I shook my head, dismissing the image that floated in my mind. "He's not a meal, he's a skeleton."

Serra nodded sadly and crossed him off our list. "Okay," she continued, sitting on top of Sammy's desk, swinging her legs. "What about the Tokunaga family? Any more siblings? Are their parents nearby?"

"Let's go find out," I said, waving my hand towards the door.

…

We pulled up to the hospital where Tyler Tokunaga was admitted. He was making progress after his near-death experience, but still not healthy enough to be taken home. Flashing our badges at the front entrance, Serra hesitated as we got into the elevator. "Oh, shit," she said, closing her eyes. "Tyler saw me already. He came in after Sammy and I…"

"Had sex on the desk?"

Serra's hazel eyes flicked up to me and she tilted her head, full of attitude. "We did it in the chair, thank you very much." She rolled her eyes and shook me off. "He saw me. I can't be a cop, too."

I sighed as I looked her over. "Lose the suit jacket and undo your hair," I commanded as the elevator beeped. "You can just be Sammy's concerned wife right now, taking the nice FBI agent to see the kid that might or might not be involved in a complicated murder plot."

Serra fluffed her hair and stared at her reflection in the elevator doors. "I have too much make-up on and I'm wearing heels. I still look like a cop."

I sighed and stared at her again. "Take off the nylons. Undo the top two buttons."

"Dean, I'm a college professor's wife, not his escort."

"One button, then." I held out my hand as Serra used me for balance to tear the nylons off her legs and stuff them into her suit jacket pocket. She glanced down and undid a button, as commanded, and turned to face me as the elevator beeped with finality as we reached our floor. I nodded, approving her wardrobe change, except for one small detail. "You're still wearing your shoulder holster," I said quietly as the elevator doors opened. "And your guns."

She clicked her tongue and ripped her leather holster off from her shoulders, slinging them both over her arm and then covering them with her suit jacket. Glancing at me as we walked towards Tyler's recovery room, she took a deep breath and calmed herself, bringing her long auburn hair back over her shoulders to hide the wrinkles in her shirt from the holster. Nodding my approval, she pushed her way into Tyler's room after knocking and smiled. "Hi, Tyler," she greeted. "You remember me?"

"Hey, Mrs. Winchester," he said, nodding lightly. He had an oxygen mask across his face and his features were still sunken and gray. "What are you doing here?"

Serra turned to gesture to me. "I was with Sam and this man came, asking questions about your illness. I told him that I knew what room you were staying in, and offered to bring him over to you. I hope that's okay."

Tyler nodded, smiling weakly. "Sure," he said, eyeing me. "Why are you asking questions about me?" he asked, looking worried. "I have a parasite or something, right?"

I stepped forward and smiled. "I'm Agent Snyder, with the FBI and we're investigating a rash of attacks around this part of the state. They're slow, deliberate attacks where people wake up in weird places, not really knowing how they got there or what happened to them." I paused, gauging Tyler's reaction. "Does that sound familiar?"

Tyler paused momentarily, thinking. "I don't know," he said carefully. "I mean, I guess. I was at a party a few weekends ago and I woke up near the dorms, passed out on the lawn."

"Passed out drunk?" I asked, tilting my head. "We've all been to school, Tyler. I know what it's like to party."

"No," Tyler said, shaking his head. "I'm not like that at all. I walked my brother's girlfriend back to her dorm that night. I was going to study afterwards, but then I woke up the next morning on the grass. I felt like shit, too."

"Why did you walk your brother's girlfriend home?"

Tyler hesitated momentarily. "Taro's been sick too. That night, he could barely move and I told him that I'd take Aiko home."

I brought out my notepad and wrote 'Aiko,' underlining it twice. Serra glanced at me, urging me on. "So, your brother, Taro," I began, shifting my weight to the other foot, "he's got what you've got?"

Shrugging, Tyler looked away. "I don't know," he said, uncomfortable. "I haven't talked to him in a few days. He's been a real asshole."

"Why is that?"

"Because brothers are assholes sometimes," Tyler replied, venom in his voice. "When I got sick, he started spouting all this ridiculous stuff about how this was the same thing that Aiko was sick with and that I must be banging her because he was convinced it was like, an STD or something." Tyler's voice cracked, emotion finding his voice. "I haven't done anything with Aiko. We're friends." He paused, staring out the window, avoiding my gaze. "We were friends."

"Were?" I asked, tilting my head. I knew what had happened to Aiko. I wanted him to explain it.

Tyler stared out the window near his bed. "Yeah," he breathed. "She…she died."

I glanced at Serra, who returned my look with a nod. I continued to Tyler, "I'm very sorry for your loss." I said gently. "What happened?"

"After he stopped harping about me and Aiko getting it on, he started to do some research and Taro's got a bunch of weird theories, but he sounds completely off his nut," Tyler explained quickly, glancing at Serra, then back at me, trying to insist that he was the sane brother. "He keeps talking about this thing from Bolivia or something…like a monster that eats people."

I nodded encouragingly. "A monster?" I asked, trying not to sound too doubtful. People shut down quickly if you're too eager to agree…or not eager enough.

"You wouldn't believe me," he replied quietly.

"Try me."

Tyler took a deep breath and lifted his shirt slightly, showing Serra and me the circular bruising across his abdomen. "I think I'm staring to believe Taro," he began. "I keep passing out and I can barely walk. Then these bruises started showing up, but they're not bruises…they've got scabs too. It's like something is puncturing my skin and sucking on me."

"Like leeches?" Serra asked, trying to sound like we weren't actually believing Tyler.

Tyler shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

I nodded slowly and smiled reassuringly at him. "Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Tokunaga. Do you think I could talk to Taro about his theory?"

"Yeah, I mean, I guess. He hasn't been answering his phone. My parents came to see me earlier, but I haven't seen him yet," Tyler responded, fiddling with the blanket that covered his body. "If you can get a hold of him, I'm sure he'd love to tell you his theory."

Writing Taro's phone number on the pad of paper in my hand, we thanked him again and headed back down the hallway. As soon as we were out of earshot, Serra glanced at me and pressed the button for the elevator. "So the pishtaco has Taro right now," she began and I was already nodding my agreement with her. "But we have no idea where he is being held."

"Yeah," I growled, shrugging out of my suit jacket and rolling up my sleeves. "We need to find out more about that alarm company."

"You still think that's where the origin is?"

"I'd bet your second button on it."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Serra

Before I knew it, we were back in the Impala. I glanced at Dean, having a new appreciation for my brother-in-law. He was measured, composed, and professional when he needed to be and wisecracking and loose when he didn't. We discovered that the alarm company that 'protected' two of the victim's houses was in Odessa, Missouri. It was only about an hour to the company's headquarters, so we decided to head back towards the scene of the crime.

I shifted in my seat, trying to pull my jeans on under my skirt as Dean drove. He glanced at me, lifting his eyebrows sarcastically. "What is it you're trying to do?"

"I'm changing my clothes," I answered, almost lifting my entire body from the seat in an attempt to pull up my too-tight jeans. "I can't play Fed anymore. I'm not built for long-term skirting."

Dean laughed, shaking his head. "I can pull over, you know."

Finally, I managed to get my jeans up and over my ass and I smiled victoriously at him. "No need," I replied, pulling my pencil skirt up and over my head. After buttoning my pants, I turned and tucked the discarded skirt into my duffle and pulled out a motorcycle t-shirt and a flannel. For the slightest moment, I felt a twinge of modesty, but I dismissed it almost immediately, pulling my blouse up and over my shoulders and tossing it behind me. As I decided which side was the front, I caught Dean's eyes shift towards me again, raking over my body. Pulling the shirt over my head, I took a deep breath and shook my head. "That's probably not the smartest thing you've ever done."

"What, check out the hot chick sitting naked in my car?"

"You mean the married-to-your-brother, sister-of-your-telepathic-wife, hot chick sitting naked in your car?"

Dean smiled boyishly and shrugged. "You're the one that stripped," he shot back. "And besides. It's nothing I haven't already seen before."

Leaning forward to pull my shirt down in the back, I furrowed my eyebrows and made a face. "What? When?"

Pursing his lips, Dean exaggeratingly tilted his head. "Uh, strip poker? Before," he sighed and his face fell slightly. "Before Grace had to take Lailah to get pregnant with Faith. The first time."

Licking my lips, I looked away from him, staring out the windshield. "Oh, right," I muttered, uncomfortable for the first time. "That was a fun night."

Nodding silently, Dean only stared out at the road, drumming his fingers occasionally on the steering wheel to Guns 'n Roses.

We drove the rest of the way relatively silently, speaking only when we brought something up about the case or if there was a theory we wanted to work through. I had decided that I was a city inspector, accompanying Dean (the still-dressed-in-a-suit) FBI agent on his murder case involving a few local break-ins. I dug through my fake IDs and found the appropriate one, tucking it into my jeans as we exited the car.

Shadowing Dean, I saw that his entire demeanor had shifted since the hospital; his body language became stoic and humorless. It was neither of our faults, but I knew that if I hadn't pushed him, he would still be his normal happy-go-lucky self. I silently chastised myself for being so annoying and promised that I would do what I needed to do to pump him back up and get his mind back in the game.

I let Dean take the lead this time, considering he was already holding out his badge and introducing himself. "I'm Agent Snyder, and this is Inspector Wallis, with the city. We were hoping to just come in and ask a few questions about a couple of your customers."

The young man that greeted us smiled lightly. "Sure," he said, nodding. "Give me just a second and I'll call Mr. Allan. He's the on-site manager."

"Great," Dean replied, smiling professionally as he put his badge back in his suit jacket. He glanced at me and I shrugged. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but we were only in the lobby. I had no idea what to expect once we made our way inside.

Shortly, a tall man appeared in the hall and gestured to us. "Welcome to FeelSafe," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "I am Dale Allan, the on-site manager here. What can I help you with?"

"Agent Snyder," Dean replied, gesturing to himself, "And Inspector Wallis. Just wanted to drop by and ask a couple of questions about your recent installations, any recent new hires, and any reports you may have had about break-ins."

"Of course," Mr. Allan answered, holding out his arm. "Come on back and I'll see what I can do."

I followed Dean as I heard Grace in my mind. _"There is someone there that doesn't want you there, Luck,"_ she said, her voice almost a whisper.

I nodded, keeping my thoughts to myself. _"Can you hear it? The pishtaco?"_

 _"_ _I don't know,"_ Grace answered. _"I didn't think I could hear monsters."_

 _"_ _They're mostly human looking. As far as I know, the only difference is the proboscis they use to suck the fat out of people."_

Hiding her disgust, Grace continued as I struggled to be a part of two conversations. _"Was that little discussion in the car about being naked really necessary?"_

Ignoring her comment for the time being, I turned my attention towards Mr. Allan, who pulled a chair out for me and indicated that I sit. I did and glanced at Dean, pressing my lips together. He caught the hint immediately and I could feel his posture change; he sat upright, his ears tilted slightly towards the doorway of the office. I followed suit, still trying to pay attention to both discussions.

"Now," Mr. Allan began. "What can I help you with?"

Dean took over and explained our version of what had happened in the last few weeks and I internally answered my sister, _"He was staring at me in my bra, Grace. What do you want from me?"_

 _"_ _You're hot, Serra. You just had a baby and you're stacked. He's a man. Get over yourself."_

Without realizing it, I clicked my tongue in annoyance at my sister and Dean glanced at me, obviously catching the gesture. I reeled myself in, trying to ignore Grace, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Finally, I cut her off. _"You need to let me concentrate. Go raise your kids."_ I rolled my eyes and added, _"And mine too, don't forget."_

She was gone as quickly as she came and I blinked, trying my best to refocus. The men were in discussion about a new hire FeelSafe had made almost two months ago. "His name is Gerardo Delgado," Mr. Allan was saying. "He is an installer and does good work."

"Did he install your product at these two locations?" Dean asked, pulling a map from the case file he held and putting it on the desk between them.

Mr. Allan put on his glasses and squinted. "I'm not sure from memory," he replied as he turned in his swivel chair and flicked on the screen to his computer.

I turned to glance at the camera that was pointed at Dean and I as we sat behind Mr. Allan's desk and looked at Dean while flicking my eyes to the corner of the room. He nodded without looking at the camera or me and I could feel the adrenaline begin to flow through my veins. We were being watched, and Grace had warned us that someone was on alert to our presence.

"Alright," Mr. Allan was saying as I struggled to hold my attention on the matter at hand. "Here are the most recent installations in that area," he turned the computer screen towards Dean and I and Dean leaned forward, comparing the two maps. His green eyes flicked to me, confirming what, I'm sure, he already knew.

We had our pishtaco.

"Is Mr. Delgado working today?"

"Yes," Mr. Allan replied, making the move to stand from his desk. "Come on over and I'll introduce you."

Dean and I stood and followed him out of the office. I walked slower than the boys, feeling the weight of one of my forty-fives pressing against my back. I had a blade tucked into the ankle of my boots as well; knowing the only for-sure way to kill a pishtaco was to cut off the proboscis they extended from their mouths to suck the fat from their victim's bodies. I followed them down the hall, hyper-aware of our surroundings and I was pleased to see that there was not much to hide in the building. The cubicles were short and we could see everyone's faces, peeking over the top of the walls like prairie dogs. It was well lit as well, so falling into step with Dean, I felt more at ease as Mr. Allan led us to Gerardo's cubicle.

The small man was hunched over his desk, filling out paper work as we approached. "Mr. Delgado," Mr. Allan began, "these agents would like to speak to you. Ask you some questions."

"It won't take long," Dean added, trying to sound friendly.

Grace flew through my mind again. _"That's him,"_ she said quietly.

I took a deep breath as I extended my hand to shake his as Mr. Allan made introductions. His hand was clammy and I instinctually wiped my own hand on my jeans as he released it. I made eye contact with him and knew Grace was right.

According to the lore, the legend of the pishtaco was originally from Bolivia and this man fit the bill. He was small in stature with a wide nose and deep, dark eyes. His complexion was dark and brooding and I immediately got the feeling that he wanted to book it out of there as fast as he could possibly move.

I could feel Dean move closer to me protectively and I glanced up at him as he did so. Mr. Allan was moving away from us after being called over the intercom to answer the phone and in seconds, we were left alone.

"Hi," Dean greeted, faking a smile.

Gerardo grimaced in response and took a step backwards. "What can I help you with?" he asked in a thick accent.

"Just wanted to ask about the houses that you installed an alarm in over the last eight weeks or so," Dean said, taking the initiative to lean against the cubicle wall, blocking the entrance. "Over in Kingsville?"

I watched the flash of recognition in his dark eyes and I knew we had him.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Dean

The damn intercom beeped again, freezing the employees in place as they listened to the announcement. The business was small, only taking up the first floor of a four-story building, sharing its lease with a real estate company. As I waited for the announcement to finish, I sighed heavily when our fish taco's name was announced.

"Gerardo, your customer is here to pick up her extra remotes and door sensors."

His eyes flicked to the exit and I tilted my head. He licked his lips, trying his best to figure out a way to leave us in the cubicle-filled hell and ditch us the first chance he got. "I need to go to the basement to grab her order," he muttered, gesturing to the doorway of his cubicle. "Please."

"We'll walk and talk," I offered, holding out my arm towards the hall and fake-smiling again.

Serra fell in step next to me and we exchanged glances, both silently preparing for the fight I knew we would eventually have. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, I knew it would happen fast.

We followed Gerardo outside towards a warehouse and tried my best to continue the conversation professionally. "So, these houses that you installed the alarms," I began, shooting a look at Serra, "did you meet the owners?"

"No," Gerardo answered a little too quickly. He used his keys to open the large door to the warehouse and pulled it open, standing in front of the doorway and gesturing to the darkness inside. "Only a few minutes of talking. I do my job and I leave."

I stood and shook my head, smiling ironically. "Oh, you first. I insist." Gerardo glared at me as he stepped inside and I turned to shake my head at Serra who was itchy for a fight behind me.

His voice echoed through the building as he continued. "The dispatcher tells me where to go, and I install the alarms." Gerardo turned to face us and shook his head. "I heard about the deaths. They are very tragic."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, distancing myself from him as he headed towards a staircase towards the back of the building. "Tragic," I repeated, glancing back at Serra once more.

I knew for a fact that the only death that had been televised was the gas station girl…Aiko. She had been the only death the public knew about. It was textbook for a murder suspect (or a monster, but really, they were all the same) to make a mistake as easy as this one: a plural is all it took.

"Dean," Serra whispered, shaking her head. Gerardo hadn't stopped. He continued down the steps and I glanced behind me at my sister-in-law. She tapped her head and raised her eyebrows, gesturing at the staircase. I knew exactly what she meant. Grace had telepathically linked with Serra, telling her that Gerardo was planning something downstairs in the basement.

He was one guy. Serra and I had taken on far worse…I didn't doubt that we could take this guy.

Once I knew Gerardo was out of earshot, I whispered, "Have you lost your nerve?"

Serra squared her jaw and pressed her lips together. She held her hand in front of her and shrugged dramatically. We followed him into the basement and as we reached the bottom of the staircase, the lights went out.

…

"Serra," Grace said quietly as she stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil for her tea. "Serra?"

Jody glanced up at her, lifting her eyebrows questioningly as she bounced Charlie. "What's the matter?" she asked, moving closer to Grace as she threw a look over her shoulder at Emery, who sat on the couch with Faith.

Grace shook her head slowly, staring off into the distance, focused on something Jody couldn't see. "I can't hear her any more."

Emery stood and walked into the kitchen slowly, Faith staring at her mother with wide blue eyes. "What's the last thing you heard from her?"

Taking a deep breath, Grace closed her eyes as she tried to replay the last few minutes of the one sided conversation she had with her sister. "She and Dean were following the fat-sucker to a warehouse because they didn't want to lose him."

"A warehouse?" Jody scoffed. "What, are they in the first five minutes of a horror movie? You don't go into the warehouse with the mass murderer."

Not responding, Grace continued to stare into space. "Dean thought they would be able to take him. They were ready for the fight with Gerardo."

"Who is Gerardo?"

Grace finally glanced at Jody, her mouth open as she tried to stay focused on two conversations at once. "The fat-sucker. His name is Gerardo Delgado."

Emery nodded and motioned with her hand. "What happened? Did he get the drop on them?"

Grace was shaking her head before Emery had finished the question. "No," she whispered. "There are two." Turning her attention to her phone, she dialed and then stared at Jody. "We're going to have to go after them."

"We're?" Jody exchanged looks with Emery as she shrugged.

Taking a deep breath, Grace sighed. "I'm calling Sam and Cas. I knew this wouldn't go well."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Dean

I woke up lying across Serra's hip, my hands cuffed to her booted ankles. The pain shooting across my scalp told me that I had gone soft in my old age and let my guard down. Glancing around the dark room, I could see supplies in boxes, lined up against the back walls. There was a steady drip from somewhere off to the left and from the sound of things, we had been unceremoniously dumped behind a set of crates, hidden from curious eyes.

I stared at my wrists and shook my head. The bastard had used both of my sets of handcuffs. Turning my head as far as it would go, I tried to see if Serra was conscious. "Sere," I whispered. "Serra." She still didn't move and a dull ache of panic tried to roll through me. "Serendipity, wake up," I said a bit louder. "Asshat clocked me good. You can shoot him now."

Serra's legs moved slightly and my hands were pulled along with her feet. I tried to see her face, but it was an awkward angle and the most I could see was her hair, splayed along the ground as if Gerardo threw her to the floor. Rage began to boil in me, knowing that she probably fought back as much as she had been able to, but he had probably overpowered her quickly, catching her off guard and hitting her hard enough to knock her down.

"Come on, Luck. Your sister is going to kill me for getting us into this." I tried moving my hands again and knew it was no use, considering there were two sets of cuffs that had been locked together around her ankles and my wrists. I made the move to sit up slowly, but realized that Serra's wrists were locked together with one of my ankles. This was possibly the most inconvenient and well thought-out way to restrain someone.

Serra moved a bit again and I brought my head up enough to make eye contact with her. There was a bruise blossoming across her face and blood trickled from her bottom lip. "What the fuck?" she asked, whispering. "How are you attached to me?"

"He used every set of cuffs we had to attach us to each other. My wrists to your ankles and vice versa." I gave up trying to hold my head up at the awkward angle and rested across her hip again. "It's actually pretty clever."

"Clever? You're complimenting the fat-sucking monster that knocked us out?"

I tried to shrug. "I know, I know," I sighed. "For what it's worth, I don't think Gerardo is the one that got the drop on us."

"What?"

"I think there are two." Serra shifted under me and I tried to lift myself from her hip, sitting up slightly. "A female, too. I think she's the one that knocked me out."

Serra laughed mockingly. "Don't let that get out."

Rolling my eyes, I stared at the ceiling as I replied, "I think you and your sister are living proof that the fairer sex isn't necessarily the weaker one."

"Thank you for being so full of gender impartiality." Serra sighed and tried to roll to her back, dragging me across her body.

I couldn't help but laugh at our positions, with my head and arms now resting on her thighs and her head peeking around my knee. "Sere, why don't you roll back this way so at least you're laying on top of me and I don't squish you."

She just sounded irritated. "If Sam doesn't squish me, you won't either," she sighed.

I closed my eyes, shaking the vision from my mind. "Don't…don't say shit like that. I'm a very visual person." Glancing up at her ankles, I wondered if I could get her boots off with the handcuffs around the ankle. "Roll with me, Serra. I'm gonna try to take your boot off."

She winked at me and kissed at the air. "I love when you talk dirty," she said, grunting slightly against the cold cement floor as she tried lifting herself up on her elbows.

I pulled at her boot without unzipping it and I could hear her chuckle under my weight. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered. "You have to unzip it or you're never going to get it off." I glanced back at her and shook my head at her. Continuing with a sarcastic tone, Serra said, "Grace is always going on about how seductive you are. I figured that meant you knew how to undo a zipper."

"Jesus, do you ever shut up?" I sighed, working the zipper to her boot down and gently working the handcuff over the leather, trying to separate the two. I adjusted my position slightly and now we were stomach to stomach. I could feel her muscles flex under me, supporting my weight the best that her small frame would allow.

"Nope," she replied, shaking her head. "It's one of my better attributes."

"According to who?" I asked, still focused on pulling the handcuff from her boot and working it off a little at a time.

"Grace. She always said I could talk my way out of anything."

"Can you talk your way out of these cuffs?"

She clicked her tongue and tried to take a deep breath. Using my elbows, I lifted up a bit so she could breathe. "I am right now, aren't I?"

Surprisingly, I managed to tug Serra's boot off successfully and I dropped it, moving on to the handcuff that was now around her lower calf. I hoped that it was open wide enough to get her foot through. "Hold still," I pleaded and Serra steadied her feet, waiting for me to continue. I moved the handcuff lower towards her heel, but heard the squeak of a door opening and closing, freezing me in place.

Glancing back at Serra, I knew she heard it too, and automatically, we rolled together, putting ourselves back into the positions we had been dumped in. I grabbed her boot and laid it across her foot, hiding the fact that we were about half way through escaping, and closed my eyes, resting my head against Serra's hip once more. Straining, I could hear voices speaking in hushed tones from the floor above us.

"We cannot feed on them," a female voice was saying. "We know nothing about them. If they are a part of the government, as they say they are, there will be hundreds more to follow, looking for them."

A male's voice followed next. I recognized it at Gerardo's. "They are not government agents. The woman carried weapons I do not recognize. This blade…it's triangular, and this?" There was a brief pause as I was sure he held up one of Serra's many knives. "This is not made of a metal I recognize."

"Asshole took my weapons," Serra whispered. I shushed her and tried to listen for movement. The couple continued to argue as Serra's body tensed under mine. I tried to glance at her, but the handcuffs cut into my wrists as I tried to move.

"What?" I hissed towards her.

"Grace." Her one worded answer told me that she and my wife were once again, engaged in a telepathic conversation and, once again, I was incredibly grateful that Grace was half-angel.

Gerardo and his companion moved away from the doorway and their voices became harder to hear. There was a hiss of air from above as the heater kicked on and began to flood the room with warm air from the vents all around the basement. I adjusted my position to see the stream of light from the door at the top of the steps disappear and I turned to Serra in time to see worry flash through her hazel eyes.

"Oh, awesome," I muttered, realizing that the vents were pumping in some sort of noxious fumes that smelled awful. "They're going to kill us with, what?" I asked, "Chemicals?"

"The alarm company shares a lease with an extermination business," Serra sighed, shaking her head. "That's really chicken shit." Immediately I went back to work on getting her foot out of our handcuffs. "What," she continued as I worked, "they kill us and stash us somewhere so they don't draw attention to themselves? What kind of monsters are they?"

Shaking my head, I could feel the fumes begin to affect my hand/eye coordination. I felt sloppy. "They're fucking lazy," I slurred. Finally, Serra's foot was free and I was able to untangle my handcuffs from her feet and sit up completely. My head and back were killing me, but I didn't have the time to think about that now.

"Gimme your hands," I said, reaching for her wrists. "I think I can unlock them with this." I pulled an old bobby pin out of my coat sleeve and gestured to Serra as she lay on the cold cement. My fingers felt bigger than they were and I fumbled to hold onto the pin. I glanced up long enough to notice that the fumes were so thick in the basement that it almost looked foggy. "Stay awake, Serra," I muttered, knowing that it would take less time for Serra to pass out than me, just based on her size. I reached for her flannel and pulled it up over her mouth and nose. "Focus on staying awake. If we can get un…un…apart, we can break that…" I shook my head to clear my thoughts. "The glass thing. We can break the glass."

"Break the glass," Serra repeated, her eyelids drooping.

I struggled with the pin and the cuffs, feeling like I could quite possibly be locking them more, but I fought the drowsiness as best I could. "What did Grace say?"

"She comin'," Serra replied, sounding drunk. "She comin' with Cas."

"Now would be a good time for them to show up," I mumbled, mostly to myself. The handcuffs clicked again and I knew I wouldn't be able to unlock them with the pin. I was a pro at cuffs when my senses weren't ridiculously dulled, but right now, I felt like I was underwater and everything was moving at an exaggeratingly slow pace.

Pulling my own undershirt up and over my face, trying to filter the gas as much as I could, I refocused enough to try again with the bobby pin. "Just stay awake, Luck. Grace'll be here and she and Cas can, you know…" I paused, trying my hardest not to take a deep breath. "They'll just bamf us home."

Serra murmured in response, slipping closer and closer in to oblivion and I knew I should be worried, but my senses were too dull to care. I dropped the bobby pin again and slumped, slowly lying back down against Serra's hip and somewhere, deep in my subconscious, I thought I recognized my wife's voice.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Grace

I will never get used to Cas being able to just send us somewhere at a moment's notice, but when I opened my eyes, I was standing in the middle of a parking lot, staring at a four -story building seemingly made entirely of glass. He appeared next to me and I shook my head, doing a full three-sixty on the pavement.

"There's Baby," I muttered, gesturing to my husband's prized Impala. "So where are they?"

Cas shook his head, listening. "I don't know," he said quietly, his voice grave. "But we have very little time." He glanced at me, lifting his eyebrows. "You have more human instinct than I do. Where would you go first?"

I sighed and shook my head, ignoring the fact that Cas apparently regarded me more as more angel than human. "They probably already did their investigation inside. If we do the same thing, people are gonna start asking questions." I gestured to the building at the other end of the parking lot that resembled a storage unit. "That could be the warehouse, right?"

Following my gaze, Cas' blue eyes flicked to my own. "I suppose," he agreed. "But you said Serra told you they were in a basement."

"Maybe it goes underground," I replied, beginning the trek across the parking lot, towards the warehouse. There was a man and a woman outside of the doorway, speaking in hushed voices, looking agitated. I glanced at Cas and he nodded in return, knowing right then and there that those were our fat-sucking monsters.

I hesitated long enough to make eye contact with the woman. Her dark complexion, deep brown eyes and long hair made me second-guess myself when it came to my immediate judgment. She didn't appear to be a monster, but I didn't appear to be deadly. Appearances can be deceiving.

We stared at each other for exactly three seconds and then she turned, breaking eye contact, and tore off down the alleyway, headed towards a car at the end of the block. "Cas!" I shouted, pointing. He took off after her and I squared my jaw as I headed towards her male companion.

He was shorter than me, but thick and muscular. His eyes were dangerous and I could tell that he seemed agitated. I glanced at his right hand, ready to fight, and noticed that he carried an angel blade. "Serra," I whispered, still headed straight towards him.

"You are going to hurt yourself, little girl," he muttered as I approached. Ducking into the warehouse, he blended in with the darkness and it took more than a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. My instincts took over, ducking out of the way as he swiped the angel blade towards me.

"Actually," I breathed, smiling lightly. "You're probably the one who is going to hurt themselves. Careful," I warned. "That knife is sharp."

"They are already dying," he said, reaching to slice the silver knife across my face again. I stepped back, twisting out of the way. "It's too late to save them. They would have brain damage anyway."

He jabbed with the blade again and I jumped back, rolling my eyes. "I'll be the one to decide that," I said. "Where are they?"

A flash of memory shot through my mind as I tapped into his thoughts. I had seen a staircase with a tiny window, like a basement, and Dean and Serra handcuffed, lying on a cement floor. The room had been dark and cloudy, almost like there was Tule fog creeping across the floor.

I smiled at him and tilted my head. "That's good," I prompted. "But I'm going to need a bit more than that."

"What?" Gerardo asked, furrowing his thick eyebrows.

"I can read your mind," I said, feeling slightly victorious already. "I've never been able to tap into a monster's mind before. You're definitely a first."

"What are you?"

I grinned at him as he swiped at my belly with the blade. "Where are they?" I asked again, knowing that his mind would reflexively think of the answer, whether he wanted to or not.

The stairway shot through my mind again and I shook my head, getting frustrated. "I know," I said, rolling my eyes again and sidestepping his attack once more. "There's stairs and a window. A basement?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Is it in this building?"

Gerardo launched himself at me and I barely had enough time to react, but I ducked, tucking myself lower than his center of gravity. As I caught his momentum in my shoulder, I buried myself into his abdomen and lifted as hard as I could at the same time, tossing him over my shoulder and rounding to face him. My shoulder stung, glowing blue momentarily, and I swore to myself, holding a hand over the wound through my clothes.

From his place on the ground, he turned to stare. "What are you?" he repeated. "I have never met another creature," he muttered, getting to his feet. "I thought my kind were the only ones."

"Kind of a big head for such a little body," I retorted, healing myself quickly and pulling my pearl-handled forty-fvie, losing interest in the banter. "Where. Are. They?"

"They are surely dead by now," Gerardo whispered. I raised my arm and fired once, knowing that his wound most likely wouldn't kill him. I just wanted to inflict as much pain as I could. He dropped to the ground, holding his abdomen and I resorted to calling Dean and Serra's names.

"Dean!" I shouted, trotting to the end of the dark warehouse. "Dean! Serra!" I made a loop and came back to where Gerardo was laying on the cement, bleeding. I stared down at him and watched the blood trickle towards a dip in the floor. Following my line of sight, I realized that the floor was tilted towards what appeared to be a staircase, buried behind a stack of crates.

Jogging towards the crates, I screamed again, "Dean!" I pulled the wooden boxes away from the wall and there was a door, sealed tightly shut with a sheet of plastic. "Serra! Serra?"

I pulled my pocketknife from my jeans and flicked it open as I could hear Gerardo begin to laugh darkly. I ignored him and slit the outer edges of the plastic away from the door and yanked it down. Immediately, I could smell the toxic chemicals that were seeping from the spaces around the doorframe as I pulled open the wooden door.

Shrugging out of my flannel, I tied it around my face as I jogged down the steps. There, in the middle of the floor, were Dean and Serra, passed out and handcuffed. "Dean!" I yelled, trying to wake him up, my hand resting on his forehead long enough to try and wake him by healing his toxic poisoning. "Serra! Come on," I pleaded, turning my attention to my sister and attempting to pull her from the ground. Immediately, I was jerked back towards the floor, realizing that they were attached to each other. "Oh, shit," I muttered, pulling out my Swiss Army Knife again and finding the tiny flathead screwdriver.

Shoving it into the first set of handcuffs I could find, I jiggled it enough to pop the lock and pull Serra's wrists from the cuffs that bound her to Dean's ankle. "Cas," I muttered. "Let her go. I can't get them out on my own."

Cas appeared out of nowhere, his tie haphazardly over his shoulder as if he was still running, and I glanced up at him, gesturing to Dean. "Carry him or heal him," I said, pulling Serra up and over my shoulders. "He's too heavy for me and I can't concentrate down here long enough to heal them." I turned towards the steps, hoping that I would stay conscious while I carried Serra. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Cas bent to heal Dean, but he stayed asleep. Reaching down to pull Dean's arm over his shoulder, Cas lifted and followed me slowly up the steps.

About halfway up, I faltered slightly, feeling lightheaded as the fumes began to get to me as well. "Focus, Grace," Cas' deep voice said, unwavering. "Get upstairs and we can heal them."

I nodded and took another step. A shadow fell across the steps and I looked up in time to watch Gerardo close the door and plunge us into darkness once again.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Grace

I felt irritation roll through me as Gerardo closed the door to the basement and slid the wooden crates across the floor to keep the wooden door shut. Pressing my lips together, I turned towards Cas and gestured back down the steps. "I can't just keep carrying her around. Bamf Dean out and come back for us."

"Where should I take him?" Cas asked, adjusting his hold on Dean.

"Just get him outside. Back to Baby," I grunted, laying Serra down at my feet. I coughed, trying my hardest to stay focused. "I am so gonna kill that guy."

Cas and Dean disappeared immediately. I anticipated him returning instantly, but when he wasn't back after about thirty seconds, concern replaced the irritation in my chest. I stared down at my sister, reaching down to feel her pulse. It was weak, at best. She needed clean air, quickly, and I was struggling to hold it together; the fumes were getting to me as well.

I glanced around the room, seeing the tiny window from Gerardo's thoughts earlier. Stepping over my sister, I stumbled towards the window and looked around for something to break the glass. Coughing again, I adjusted the flannel across my face and pushed a wooden crate so that it was lined up with the window and I climbed up, trying to push the window open. It wouldn't budge.

 _Of course not._

I climbed back down and the basement began to swim around me, my vision going blurry as I picked up a fire extinguisher and attempted to climb back up on the crate. "Come on, Cas," I muttered, hoping that he would hear me, no matter what was happening on his side. "A little help here."

From my position on my knees, I heard three shots fired from outside and Dean's voice echo through the parking lot. "Grace!" he yelled, and I sighed in relief.

I banged on the glass with my hand and then strained to lift the giant fire extinguisher above my head to hit the glass of the window. My first blow was enough to crack the glass, but the mesh that wove through kept it in place. I took another slow breath and tried again. "Grace!" I heard again, my hearing going fuzzy. There were more shots and I shook my head slowly, knowing that the bullets wouldn't kill the pishtacos. Only slicing off their proboscis would. We had to get them to think they were going to feed.

I slammed the fire extinguished against the glass once again and I could feel the steady stream of fresh air as the glass began to fall away from the mesh. Pulling the flannel away from my face, I took a deep breath and immediately felt my senses sharpen, finally getting clean oxygen to my brain.

The next thing I knew, Cas was appearing in the middle of the basement, picking Serra up from the floor where I left her. He turned to me and nodded, his face bloody. "The female is tougher than I thought she would be," he explained. "I will return for you."

I nodded at the angel and he disappeared again, carrying Serra. I took another deep breath of fresh air from the window and waited as patiently as I could, hearing Dean yell as he fought with the monster. I would be surprised if someone from the offices didn't call the police. We had to finish this up before all of us got arrested.

Turning towards the door to listen, I could hear the scrape of wood against wood as someone slid the crates away from the door to the basement. The door whipped open and Dean's voice resonated through the basement.

"Grace," he said, sighing and smiling slightly in relief when he made eye contact with me. I jumped down from the crate and took the steps two at a time, falling into my husband's arms. He hugged me briefly and kissed me on the forehead as he slid an angel blade into my hand. "You ready?"

I nodded, feeling almost normal after making contact with his Mark of Cain. Flipping the angel blade in my hand I fell into step next to him. He held a demon blade in one hand and the Knight Blade in the other, ready to rush the pishtaco in front of us.

There in the doorway came Serra's silhouette with a blade in each of her hands as well, standing next to Cas. We had Gerardo surrounded. I leaned towards Dean and whispered, "Where is the female?"

"Cas took her out," he replied, moving towards Gerardo. "Just him left."

I nodded, flicking my eyes to my sister and to Cas. We all took a step forward and forced Gerardo towards the center of the room. He held up his hands, trying to keep us at bay, but he knew that there was very little that he could do. We had him cornered.

It all happened very quickly. Serra approached him from the back, forcing him into a defensive posture and Dean kept him in the center of the circle. Cas reached out with his hand forcing his head back and his proboscis appeared, snaking out of his open mouth, searching for its next meal. With a swipe of one of her Weapons' Stone blades, Serra sliced it clean off. It fell to the cement floor with a sickening thud, Gerardo writhing to the ground next to it. After a few seconds, they were both still.

Sighing heavily, I pulled the flannel from around my neck and glanced up at Dean, kissing him on the mouth, hard. He returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around me and tugging on my hair accidentally as his arms wound around me. I heard Serra clear her throat loudly, getting my attention. I backed away from Dean and turned to put my hands on my hips, staring at her.

"What? We're fine," she said, narrowing her eyes.

I raised my eyebrows and shook my head. "You're really lucky," I growled.

"Oh, I'm lucky?" she spat, raising her finger to point at Dean. "What about him? He was just as passed out as me." She crossed her arms in front of her chest, shaking her head. "He doesn't get yelled at. He gets made out with."

"Would me making out with you make you feel better?" I asked, crossing my arms as well.

"It would make me feel better," Dean grumbled from behind me. I ignored him.

Serra cracked a smile and rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up," she replied, dropping her arms and coming forward to hug me.

"That was closer than it needed to be," I muttered into her hair. "Don't be so stupid next time."

Serra pulled away from me, smiling slightly. "Next time?" she asked, grinning.

"We'll talk about it later." I pushed her away and leaned back, into Dean's chest. He sighed into my hair and I closed my eyes, relaxing slightly.

…

Cas disappeared soon after we cleaned up the mess that Gerardo and his mate left behind. Cas dragged her body into the warehouse, pulled the bullets from both of their bodies and we let the whole thing ignite, the fumes from the extermination department catching fire almost immediately. We knew the fire would explain the Gerardo's death and with a little digging on the company's website, I discovered that his mate worked for the company as well. The both of them being 'killed' in the fire would be easy for the corporate offices to explain.

Dean, Serra, and I loaded up into the Impala before the fire department had a chance to show. I erased the cameras' security feed after hacking into their computers and Dean and Serra walked the parking lot before we left, gathering the bullet casings from Dean's gun.

As we crept back onto the highway, Serra laid out on the back seat, slipping into unconsciousness as we drove. I glanced at Dean, hearing his thoughts about the hunt replay through his head. He was happy about how it had gone and he was trying his hardest not to miss the action.

After about ten minutes, I took a deep breath and smiled sadly. "It's okay to miss it," I said quietly. "There are times I miss it, too."

"It's not who we are anymore," he replied, not looking at me. "We've got the kids…" He shook his head and licked his lips, trying to sound convincing. "Our priority is keeping them safe."

Nodding, I agreed with him, but took a breath. "What if part of keeping them safe is hunting?"

Dean's jade eyes flicked towards me. "You said we weren't hunting anymore," he replied, shaking his head.

I turned my body towards my husband and took another deep breath. "Dean," I began, closing my eyes. "This is going to continue to happen. We'll hear about something on the news or from someone in town. Our kids…" I sighed, shaking my head sadly. "Our kids are special. They're not normal, no matter how much we try to pretend that they are. I thought for a long time that we would be able to forget about all of this and just be civilians."

Dean swallowed, making his Adam's apple bob under the scruff of his neck. His jaw clenched as he continued to stare out at the road, but he remained silent.

"We're not just civilians, Dean," I whispered. "We never will be."

The Impala's engine filled the void of sound as I fell still. I stared at my hands, waiting for Dean to continue his internal monologue or to speak aloud, but when he did, I was surprised at the tone of his voice. It was low and careful, almost trying to feel me out.

"Now you're saying that we should keep hunting?"

I nodded slowly, even though my instinct was to lock my entire family up in the panic room to keep us as safe as I possibly could. This was an impossibility, though, I knew. After all, I was Nephilim, my husband was forever branded with The Mark of Cain, our children were angel/Mark of Cain hybrids, and my sister was a Warrior of Heaven.

 _Warrior of Fucking Heaven_ , I heard Serra's voice in my head.

Rolling my eyes and dismissing her, I continued to Dean. "I'm saying that we take the jobs that are close to home so we're never gone more than a couple of days at a time." I lifted my eyes to stare at the square of his jaw. "I'm saying that we take turns so that the kids are never without a pair of us." I sighed and took his hand from the seat and held it with both of my own. "I'm saying that we never let ourselves become vulnerable again."

Dean glanced at me and I saw the hint of a smile tug at his lips, showing the dimple in his cheek. "Only if you're sure," he whispered.

"It's what we need to do." I lifted my eyebrows and tilted my head, "You still need to be a mechanic because we need to hold onto that shop. Maybe not all the kids will end up hunters."

"Fat chance."

I clicked my tongue. "I'm not going to think about that right now," I said, turning back in my seat so that I faced the windshield, still holding his hand.

"We're staying legit and we're going to hunt?" Dean laughed and shook his head. "This ain't going to be pretty."

"I didn't say it would be." I grinned at him turned up the radio. "But imagine how happy Lucky will be."

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "We made a pretty good team, you know," he said, gesturing back towards my sister. "After she got over hating me, I mean."

I glanced towards the back seat as Serra smiled up at me, pretending to sleep. I sighed, "She's still a pain in my ass."

"You're welcome," Serra mouthed, closing her eyes again.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Serra

We had been home from the pishtaco hunt for about two weeks. Things had been going back to normal, though my daughter did everything in her power to make my life as hard as possible. Charlotte rarely slept through the night and was irritable about everything. The only time she was really calm was when she was with my nieces and beohewand Grace took it upon herself to rub it in every chance she got, laughing in my face about how difficult I had been as a kid and how Charlie was simply payback for my adolescent misbehavior.

I excitedly headed back to work after my maternity leave ended, grateful to have a break from my whiny three-month-old. I would never admit aloud that I missed both of my kids terribly while I was gone, and though I knew Grace could hear my sentiment, she only smiled when she heard my thoughts about the matter. Grace seemed content to stay home with all of the kids and everyone was happy by the time I picked up Levi and Charlie in the afternoons.

Sammy continued kicking ass at the University of Kansas, taking on another Ancient Religions class as the semesters progressed. He loved being paid to research, so this was a position in which he thrived. He had over three hundred students and somehow managed to keep them all organized and achieving.

Winchester Family Auto was also doing well. Dean finished his repairs on The Tank, finally getting the insurance money to pay for the parts he ordered. I was finally driving my truck again. She was completely rebuilt from the ground up. Dean had done an amazing job, though I would never complement him so directly. All of the pieces were still original 1971 parts and they had fit together as if they were factory. The shop basically ran itself, only needing Dean to approve purchases and sign the occasional invoice. He loved being able to work on the cars and not just be stuck behind a desk. It was a perfect set-up for a family of hunters.

We watched the news after dinner one evening in February, sprawled out in the living room of the Big House and a story came on about strange attacks with no suspects and no way to explain how people were dying from within their locked rooms at a turn-of-the-century hotel in Old Town Topeka. I could feel a smile tugging at my lips as I turned and exchanged looks with my brother-in-law. He was sitting on the couch, piled with kids: Liberty was on his lap, leaning into his chest as she watched TV and Levi was cuddled up to his side as Dean's arm draped around him. Faith lay in the crook of his other arm and Everett sat at his feet. Dean's jade eyes flicked to mine and he grinned silently back.

Vengeful spirit, here we come.


End file.
